


Breaking Me Softly

by Macx



Series: Synergy [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Background Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychic Bond, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 51,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had Drifted twice with a Kaiju brain. No one can be expected to come away without some form of damage. Newton might have expected the flashes of Kaiju hive memories, maybe even growing a little closer to his colleague Hermann Gottlieb than they already have. </p><p>He didn’t expect everything else. The intense emotional reactions. The way he almost unconsciously leans toward Hermann. The way he seeks out his… touch. Closeness and touch. It is so, so messed up.</p><p>And it isn’t really getting any better because the more he fights it, the worse he becomes…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a little ficlet about the science bros. It got away from me. Very, very quickly. VERY!
> 
> Since this is part 2 of the Synergy 'verse it's a partial Skyfall crossover again. The characters appear throughout the story. Chuck lived, so it's a fix-it. His relationship with Raleigh happens in the background, so I didn't put the pairing into the relationship tags.
> 
> Profuse apology in advance:
> 
> I only saw the movie once. And not even in the original version. I failed to catch the OV before it disappeared out of theaters, so I might not really hit the voices right.
> 
> I still keep my fingers crossed.
> 
> And I really didn’t want to wait till December 31st when the DVD comes out to post this puppy. I'm running in circles over it anyway, so here, have the first chapter. It won't get any better if I keep staring at it.

He didn’t really give it a thought. Not much of a thought. Not at first anyway.

The aftermath of closing the Breach had been filled with trying to find the escape pods, find survivors from the Jaegers sent down into the deep to destroy the Throat, and whooping in joy when they were located.

It took a bit longer to confirm that not only had Raleigh and Mako made it back, Skyfall Prime’s command crew was also alive. Not really kicking, but alive.

And they had a third pilot on board.

He had never seen a man so relieved, so close to tears, his world shattered, torn apart, and then, with one sentence, fixed again, than Hercules Hansen.

Chuck had made it out of the deep. He was injured, but he was alive.

No, Newton Geiszler, six doctorates, genius Kaiju expert, didn’t give it much thought when he found himself always in company of his reluctant lab partner and constant bickering pain-in-the-ass. Dr. Hermann Gottlieb. Colleague of too many years to count.

They had been around each other for too long for this closeness to feel forced or awkward. Ten years this year. He’d have to scrounge up the date, make it their anniversary, maybe get a cake. And lots of alcohol. Celebrations all around.

Maybe he should have given it a thought or two when Herc ushered them into medical to get checked out and they were in the same examination room.

Then again, with so many pilots coming in, the five survivors of the final, all-deciding battle, room was sparse and Chuck was currently the worst off, so they needed space to work on him. Newton had seen a lot of blood, sweat and tears, and he prayed that Chuck would come out of this with all his limbs and organs.

Newton felt strangely relaxed in the presence of his colleague of endless shouting and yelling, teasing, bantering, bitching and snarking. Now there was a calmness between them, the echoes of the Drift.

It was something Newton had never felt before, this keen awareness of another mind with him, like a blanket around his own, keeping his chaos in order.

Chaos. Order.

He almost laughed. Right hemisphere, left hemisphere. Yeah, they had Drifted and they had saved the world.

Rockstars, baby!

Hermann’s scowl told him that the other man had picked up on it. They were still in the Ghost-Drift, as to be expected.

It would pass.

It always did.

The things he had seen and felt in those seconds in the Drift wouldn’t.

*

The doctors found very little seriously wrong with them – aside from questioning Newton’s sanity to attempt a Drift with a Kaiju. And it hadn’t been an attempt, he informed them. He had done it. Twice!

That was Hermann’s cue for bitching about unscientific methods and rash decision making that wasn’t based on trials.

“You offered to do this with me, Hermann!”

“Because you would have done it anyway. This way, at least, there were two minds to share the neural load. God knows what you did to your brain that first time, Geiszler!”

“It worked! I was right!”

“And you nearly killed yourself in the process!”

“But I was badass!”

“You were a reckless idiot!”

“I love you, too, Hermann. Now shut up!”

The nurses ignored them as best as possible, but Newton couldn’t ignore the softly wafting emotions between them. He didn’t think they were faint echoes of before; this was more real. Like something happening right now. He felt worry, a headache and a persistent ache from his leg that wasn’t his, exhaustion and exhilaration, and he felt affection and distress.

It was all he felt, too, but not his own emotions. Mirrored? Wow…

Hermann looked at him, eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything anymore.

 

He had a few bloody scrapes in his face, which were cleaned and a bandage put over the one on his forehead, and a myriad of bruises all over his body. Hermann’s leg had been examined, poked and prodded like everything of them, and Newton had seen him wince a little.

He felt with him. Literally.

“You should keep off that leg for as much as possible, Dr. Gottlieb.”

It got the doctor a scathing look. Of course Hermann knew that. And Newton knew it. He had seen it in the Drift. Sometimes the muscles would lock up if he walked too much on it, if he ran. If he knelt down, all of which he had done in the past forty-eight hours.

To save the world.

Newton gave Hermann an encouraging smile when the doctor pushed pain pills into his colleague’s hands, which Gottlieb regarded like they were Kaiju excrement he was supposed to swallow.

“Be nice, Herm. Say ‘Thank you, doctor’ to the nice man. You know: human interaction. We had that chapter last week.”

The scathing look was now on him. Newton gave him a brilliant smile.

Both were told to get some rest, to come back tomorrow, that they would need a complete brain scan to determine how much damage the Drift had really done, but Hermann had just scoffed at that.

“I can very well scan my own brain,” he had muttered, limping off.

“Want an assist?” Newt offered, bouncing along.

Well, not really bouncing. He felt tired to the bone. His brain was rattling around his cranium in a rather frightening manner. His thoughts were still chasing each other and some, well, a lot, were not his own.

They had been told that they had both suffered from exhaustion, showed stress-related symptoms, and that they could count themselves lucky to be alive.

Newton didn’t call it luck. It was cunning and science, all wrapped up in this handsome package. He had known that it would work.

And. It. Had!

“I don’t need your assistance,” Gottlieb told him dismissively. “Knowing your methods, it would fry my synapses.”

“Didn’t when we Drifted.”

The scowl was now directed at him, full force. “Not for the lack of trying on your part. You created a Drift mechanism out of spare parts!”

“Because I’m a genius. It worked,” he said cheekily.

“Yes,” Hermann said slowly. “Yes, it did. A small miracle.”

Oh, that sounded like praise, a compliment out of the mouth of Dr. Hermann Gottlieb himself. He would have to frame that in his mind for the generations to come.

Hermann shot him a baleful look.

Newton wasn’t deterred and when both of them ended up in the lab again, neither gave it much thought. Still, they stood in the room with a rather lost expression, neither man really knowing what to do.

The Breach was closed.

The war was over.

And Kaiju parts littered every available surface in Newton’s half of the lab. And partially spilled over into Gottlieb’s. Hermann kicked at the entrails with a look of disgust, but his heart really wasn’t in it.

“We should start documenting,” Newton started. “Of what happened, what we saw. I mean, I want that baby Kaiju in my lab asap, but we were in its brain, dude! Its brain! How cool was that?”

“Less than you would think,” was the even reply.

Hermann limped over to his side and sat down. There was a brief wince, then some of the lines in his face smoothed a little. Taking weight of the leg, the pain medication working, Newton realized. His colleague had really done a number on his bad leg and he was paying for that now. Gottlieb started shuffling papers.

“Was this amazing, Herm? It was the greatest thing since… since the Drift itself! We were part of an alien mind!”

“It’s not Herm. My name is Hermann Gottlieb.” Hermann looked pinched. “And I am glad it’s over. Everything is over, Dr. Geiszler.”

“It’s only just beginning!” Newton contradicted, adrenaline still firing through him. His brain had switched into rambling mode. “Do you realize what we did? We are the first humans to Drift with a Kaiju! We saw everything about them! We were the Kaijus!”

“An experience I regret.”

“No, you don’t,” he declared cheerfully, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. “And you like me! You really, really like me!”

Hermann just turned around and ignored him.

But Newton felt the echoes, the Ghosts, and they told him something different. He listened to the memories and emotions and feelings. He caught faint surges of something, close by, undefined, like clouds passing through his fingers.

Insubstantial. Still real. So amazingly soft in their origin, cool against his mind.

It had been amazing shit and he would do it again in a heartbeat.

With Hermann.

Only with Hermann.

And Hermann liked him!

 

*

Maybe it should have been a clue-by-four that they left the lab together not much later, as if that was exactly what they had intended to do all along.

As if dropping by had been to check if anything was on fire. Or missing. Or just… whatever.

Maybe Newton should have noticed that they stayed close together as they walked, his own pace adjusting to Hermann’s tired limp.

That when they finally made it to their rooms, Newton felt like a part of him had just been cut off. Like he had gone blind in one eye, deaf on one ear.

“Shit,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

Dirt, sweat, blood, grime… he needed a shower. Really. Very badly.

The shower was okay, revived him long enough to feel the aches and pains that had been pushed into the back of his mind by too much adrenaline. He grimaced when he looked into the mirror, saw the blood-shot eye, the abrasions. He looked like something a Kaiju had chewed up and spit out. And probably stomped on a few times for good measure.

Newton walked around his quarters, a little at a loss as to what to do.

 

What really gave him a clue was that he didn’t fall asleep. He was tired, exhausted, down to his very soul, and he felt the weariness in every cell of his body, but he couldn’t sleep.

He felt… cold.

And his brain kept rattling with everything he had seen and felt and heard. Everything that was Hermann and the Kaijus and the hive and the Anteverse. Everything that had rushed through them when the baby’s brain had Drifted with them.

Everything.

Newton sat up, glasses on his nose, bleary eyes on the bedside clock.

Ass-o’clock in the morning.

And his nose was bleeding.

Shit.

Newton grabbed a towel and pressed it against his nose. A glance into the mirror told him that the blood-shot eye didn’t really help with the image of someone who had gone through hell and might not really have come out with his faculties intact.

He saw a world swimming in front of his eyes where he had never been. It excited him because this was where the Kaijus had come from. This was their home planet. Home dimension. Whatever.

He had been there.

All of them. He had been with all of them.

And it didn’t stop. Newton kept seeing the flashes, together with more human memories, but they were drowned out by the alien mind that was struggling to make a home in his.

 

_Alone._

_He was alone._

_A hissing sound. Metal Jaeger claws sinking into his chest. Pain… ripping him apart…_

_Alone._

_He suffered alone._

 

Newton felt his heart hammering in his chest and for a brief second he was dizzy and disoriented, drawn between being the Kaiju and then the human again and then… both.

Burying his fingers in his hair he groaned. The worst the Kaiju remembered wasn’t pain, the mutilation at the hands of the Jaegers. It was being alone in this, for it, alien world. Sent to destroy the enemy, but always alone.

Until two had been sent through.

Then three.

And when one died, then another, the pain was the loneliness.

 

_One mind with him. Small. His mind. Not an offspring, just another self. A clone inside it, a new way for the masters to breed their weapons._

_Not a baby._

_Just another self._

_Born and ready to fight right away._

 

By now, everything was one blazing migraine and the world was a tiny pin prick of existence in Newton's mind. He wanted to scream in pain, but his whole body was betraying him.

 

_… pulling sensation…_

_… cells being ripped…_

_… torn apart…_

 

And then they were gone, leaving nothing but a hole.

Newton drew a harsh breath, tried to steady his feelings.

“Shit,” he whispered.

He threw the bloodstained towel into a corner.

 

An hour later it wasn’t any better. He was bouncing around his room like a rubber ball on steroids. His brain was a fuzzy mess.

He was a mess.

Total wreck.

His mind was in complete disarray, looking for something, reaching for something, and it wasn’t there.

The neural connection was no more. The hive mind wasn’t his; he was human, damnit! Human!

Newton was close to banging his head against the wall. Okay, scratch that. He was already banging his head against the wall.

Not that it helped.

The chaos was still there and it wasn’t getting any less. His very human brain was trying to adjust to something that had never been meant for it. It did it in a way that had Newton scaling his cranial walls: it wanted company. It needed the other half of the hive.

“Shitshitshit,” he whispered roughly.

His breathing sped up, and he was close to hyperventilating.

Newton had no idea how much time passed before his overtaxed mind finally quieted down. It was a relief how much the agony faded, left only the sharp throb of each heartbeat and the frantic pants for breath.

Humans had never been meant to Drift with alien minds.

He blinked his eyes open, his vision blurry.

He was on the floor of his quarters.

Getting up was a master piece of coordination and trying not to throw up. Newton managed both, but it was a close call on the vomiting part. At least until he stumbled to the bathroom door. He lost the battle. He just about made it inside his body heaving painfully.

Again, an unknown amount of time passed. He sat next to the toilet, trembling, fighting the echoes of what he had gone through.

Something teased at the edge of his mind.

Newton leaned his head against the wall, close to sobbing as the Kaiju’s memories came back; all their memories -- teasing, taunting, too much to bear. Everything narrowed down to those alien instincts.

His head started to ache and his vision was swimming. His very brain was on fire, each breath hurting, each heartbeat a million times louder than before. His whole body seemed to throb with the pulse. He was so tempted to give in to the darkness, but then something seemed to intervene.

Cool and logical, serene and very much in control. It interlocked with Newton’s mind in a way he hadn’t thought possible, clicked into place, and he couldn’t really fight it.

It helped.

He almost cried again when the hive was finally nothing but an afterimage, a threatening but harmless thunderstorm that now passed by and disappeared.

Newton drew great gulps of air, clinging to his safety net, the control he missed.

He felt like he had run a marathon.

 

Still he couldn’t sleep.

 

So he found himself wandering the corridors.

Alone.

Heading nowhere in particular.

But he ended up in the lab and he wasn’t really surprised to find Hermann there.

Hermann Gottlieb, who looked just as bad as him. Paler than usual, his thin lips almost bloodless, the hair in wild disarray, and dressed in what Newton would have called a hilariously old-fashioned pajamas and a grandfather robe.

Right now he didn’t feel like teasing.

And maybe it was his imagination, but there were flecks of dried blood under Hermann’s nose.

Nose bleed. Him, too. The doctors had told them that it was a possibility. It should abate soon. Right now their bodies were still under too much stress, not to mention their brains.

Something inside of him unfurled when he saw the other man, something relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief, and he felt the echoes between them.

Ghost-Drift, the pilots called it.

This one was with a twist. This one kept shivering across a connection established through a Kaiju brain and the resonance was… awesome.

“It’s not,” Gottlieb said, startling him. “It’s keeping me awake.”

Newt was pretty sure he hadn’t said a thing, but he didn’t bring it up. He was coming down from a high that left him weak and breathless, like a rush of adrenaline that had finally worn off.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he simply said. “Too much going on. Loud parties. Yeah. Parties.”

Hermann’s expression called him a liar; loudly.

But Newton didn’t care.

He also didn’t care that he fell asleep in the lab, on the ratty old couch, because it was sleep.

And it was good.

And he felt at home.

 

tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

When he woke in the morning it was to a large coffee sitting in a thermo cup on a stack of old books next to the couch. There was a rather sad looking sandwich wrapped in plastic, too.

Of Hermann there was no trace.

 

 

Gottlieb came into the lab half an hour later, looking his usual, nerdy self. Like the college professor someone had dumped into the middle of a war. His clothes always seemed a little bit too big for him. Newton had suspected right from the start that it was intentional. Now, after the Drift, he knew it for a fact. At least mostly. Hermann Gottlieb couldn’t care less what he looked like. He didn’t really give a thing about it.

So he also catered to the image of the nerd wearing tweed, the old-fashioned professor in a dusty outfit that didn’t really fit him.

Newton gave him a grin and thankfully raised the coffee.

Hermann just frowned. “Don’t spill it on my books.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

_And thanks_ , he thought.

The slightly disdainful expression softened for a second, then Hermann went back to his work.

Newton happily munched on the sandwich, then mentally went through his To Do list for the day.

The war was over. The Breach was closed. He had Kaiju parts to the hilt to choose from. He had a brain full of knowledge that needed to be put somewhere, that the scientific world was probably going to have a collective heart attack of joy over.

So much to do.

So little time.

He grinned and cracked his fingers.

No time like the present to start with some of that stuff, even if his thoughts chased each other like rabbits on speed. Huh. Rabbits. Chasing the rabbit.

Oh, Drift analogies.

And maybe too little sleep did that to you, Newton thought giddily.

At least he had something to do.

 

* * *

 

The parties distracted him. Alcohol, wild stories, music, the incredible, raw sense of being alive. He grinned madly at the stories told. He felt the elation and the grief, knew of the happiness and the mourning first hand. He shook hands, clapped shoulders, had his own clapped and squeezed.

Somehow, Gottlieb was always there, a step or two behind, leaning on his cane, giving a good impression of a grouch. He was startled when techs came up to him, called him a god-damn hero. He looked thunderstruck at first, then found his aloof indifference again, but the expression in his eyes spoke of how touched he really was.

Newton made sure to push drinks into his hand, though most weren’t touched.

It didn’t stop him.

Raleigh was there, and Mako. And Q and Bond. Herc dropped by, looking years younger because his son had been brought back.

Feeling slightly fuzzy because of too much alcohol, Newton found himself talking to a mechanic from Striker about a new tattoo. The man in question was excessively tattooed, too, even up his neck, over one ear, winding up his bald skull.

Newton found it artful. And he was tickled to see that the tattoos were mechanical in nature, as if he had started to transform into a Jaeger. Here and there were shadows of Kaijus and Newton happily played the game of Name the Kaiju, the Jaegers who killed it and on what date. When Larry, the mechanic, showed him that he had the dates as a mathematical formula next to the Jaeger, Newton was in love.

“Dude, cool!” he lauded.

“Hey, yours are rad, Doc. Rad!”

Newton preened, then discovered Hermann. Larry was given a beer by a colleague and dragged off to another small group of celebrating drinkers.

“What do you think, Herm? How about Otachi’s tongue on my neck?” he asked his lab partner.

For some reason, Hermann was still there.

“It’s Dr. Gottlieb,” was the expected answer, the scolding tone so very familiar. “And you already have every single Kaiju on your body.”

“So it would be only fair to give Otachi some space, too.”

“It’s your skin. You will look ridiculous when you grow older and your skin is wrinkled and sallow.”

“Art never grows old, Herm.”

“Dr. Gottlieb!”

Newton slung an arm around his neck and grinned. “Yeah, Herm. Yeah, whatever gets you off.”

Hermann extricated himself from the hug, though not as quickly or forcefully as Newton remembered him usually doing from such personal contact.

Some kind of questionable, Russian brew was pushed into his hands and he toasted their win. He laughed with some engineers, grinned at the antics, and he smiled for pictures. Newton felt good, on top of the world, like he had run a marathon and was still on a high.

“Your nose is bleeding.”

He wiped his sleeve underneath his nose and found red on it. “Huh.”

Hermann held out a handkerchief. “Manners, Dr. Geiszler. You are such a child.”

The warm fuzzy feeling was still there, but closer, calming, surrounding him. He almost unconsciously stepped closer to the other man. Hermann’s hand was on the small of his back for a second, like… as if… as if he simply tried to stop a tipsy colleague from running into him.

And then they were walking.

Away from the party, the music, the alcohol.

“Get some sleep,” Gottlieb said and Newton blinked, surprised that he was in front of his quarters.

“Huh. Right. Sleep.” He dabbed at his nose again. No more blood. “Sleep’s good.”

He walked inside, swaying a little. Sleep sounded really good.

 

*

 

Newton tried sleeping. Really, he did. It was normally so easy.

Close your eyes, relax, let your body do the rest. Exhaustion would take over and the brain shut down.

But it didn't.

Sleep didn’t come.

Lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, Newton felt his mind race. Again and again he was flashing to the Drift, the Kaijus, the Anteverse, Hermann, everything.

Newton tossed and turned and his brain was running wild. He was flailing for something, to connect to the hive. He knew it was a Ghost, that he was experiencing it in a different way from the Jaeger pilots, but logic didn’t work right now.

He was alone and that just didn’t… it didn’t feel right.

This wasn’t the alcohol.

This was different and it was like a keening little voice inside him.

The images intensified.

The Anteverse. The Kaijus. All of them in life and death. He felt the hive mind pressing down. It wasn’t really there, just a faint echo, but even faint it was overwhelming.

He had memories that weren’t his own.

Half were alien.

The other half was…

Newton felt the knot open, felt something spread, that warm glow he had been aware of as Hermann Gottlieb. He grabbed that glow, felt the cool, controlled logic of the other mind, the memories and emotions, wishes and dreams, fear and terror, and he breathed deeply.

His fingers dug into the sheets and he felt himself tremble. Newton screwed his eyes shut, biting his lower lip. His body was as taut as a wire, ready to snap.

Panic crept along his peripheral vision.

He was alone.

Shit.

God no…

Please, no…

The Kaiju emotions receded.

All that was left was the pull.

Newton sat up with a groan.

He couldn’t be alone in his quarters, his home away from home.

They were messy like his lab, Kaiju drawings, news articles and photographs stuck to every flat surface. Books and magazines in half a dozen different languages strewn around. Half-finished projects everywhere, some functional, some not even close to it. Some he didn’t know what he had tried to do with, what he had been thinking.

Not much, Hermann would say.

His bed was always unmade, the pillow case a different color from the blanket. An old throw lay bunched up against the wall. He had bought it at a flea market. He had liked the wild colors.

As wildly colored as his body.

He loved his room. But right now he couldn’t be here. He had to… be somewhere else.

 

*

 

The door to Hermann’s quarters was unlocked.

The man was in bed, prim and proper, dressed in those striped pajamas Newton found himself laughing about it in his head.

“They are not ridiculous,” Gottlieb sniped, glaring at him from over his book.

An honest-to-God book. Paper and leather. Old. The man hated e-books for some reason. No, he didn’t have to wonder. He had been in Hermann’s head.

Sure, Newton had his own magazines and books, all found in Hong Kong, but he loved his e-readers. So much easier to carry around.

Barely a year older than Newton, still so much older from the way he behaved and dressed and viewed the world.

He knew that man.

Had seen his hopes and dreams. Had seen them torn apart and shattered. Had seen the accident that had cost him so much. Had seen his parents, always pushing their genius child.

Had seen the humiliation and the pain and the bullying he knew so well. Only too well.

Nerds and geeks and brainiacs. Against the jocks of the world.

The jocks who had saved the world.

Together with the geeks.

Newton found himself smiling at his runaway thoughts and something in Hermann’s eyes reflected that smile, though his lips never pulled out of that frown.

“Can’t sleep,” he finally said, fidgeting a little.

What he wanted to say was that he couldn’t be alone, that there was too much still in his head, the Kaiju, all Kaijus, and Gottlieb. Everything.

He kept seeing these fantastic images. He was there, in the middle of the alien mind, saw them all, heard them all, understood so little. His human brain was too limited to work through the mass in one go. He couldn’t store it in the correct order. He couldn’t make sense of it.

Not like he had made sense of Hermann. Not like he had stored and understood Hermann.

No, the Kaijus were the weapons, put together like Newton would put together a machine. They were born through cloning. They had one memory, one purpose, one soul. Newt had been with all of them, with each of them, alive and dead, and he had shared their pain, their sharpness, their cool, primal nature.

And when he was alone, away from the party, from others, he felt them even more. He felt it all push down on his mind and he needed to… share… He needed…

… not to be alone.

“I can see that,” Hermann sighed, startling him out of his almost zone-out.

It sounded put-upon, almost exasperated. Annoyance filtered through.

But what he did next wasn’t an act. He scooted over on the bunk and Newton didn’t know when he moved, but he did, and he slid into the warmth, curled close, and then there was just… rightness.

Another presence.

Everywhere.

It felt incredible.

Nothing about this was awkward.

Something inside of him broke and to his embarrassment he started to tremble. It was fear and anxiety and the horror of the past all coming together. It was desperation and denial, and there were… tears. Newton was crying soundlessly, tears leaking from his closed eyes.

Hermann held him. Just held him.

Newton felt like he was the only real thing he knew, as Gottlieb stroked over the unruly hair. It was a gentle, petting motion, surreal and still familiar, and it lulled them both into a doze.

“And they are ridiculous,” Newton murmured sleepily after a very long time, burying against the flannel.

It got him a huff, the arms around him pulling him close. “You came here in blue boxers and a hipster t-shirt.”

“Kaiju blue boxers. Glow in the dark, too. And the shirt’s a classic.”

His mind settled. His brain stopped sparking at everything. He felt heavy, good, relaxed. Hermann’s mind settled with him, like a blanket over the whirling vortex.

He fell asleep.

 

 

He woke up the next morning to Hermann still asleep.

Still an arm around Newton, holding him close.

Newton just lay there, mind whirling, though the maelstrom of last night was no more. He felt good, relaxed, better than before.

The hive.

Them. They were that hive mind now. There was no connection to the Kaijus. Those in their world were all dead.

He disentangled himself and slipped quietly out of bed.

The hive.

Shit.

After-effects of amazing, ground-breaking new science sucked. A lot. Desperately.

And he snuck out of Gottlieb’s quarters, back to his own, the warmth still there, the quietness seeping into his very soul. He felt after-images of the arms around him, the steady heartbeat, the regular breaths, all lulling him into a sense of security he had never known he had needed or missed.

Ghosts drifted around him.

Oh yeah, this kinda sucked. At least it would for Hermann when he woke up. He would be embarrassed and not talk about last night.

 

*

 

Newton was right. At least about the not-talking. He sensed no embarrassment from his colleague, who he met over breakfast. Hermann scowled as usual, had his usual breakfast, wore his usual suit.

And Newton felt so insanely happy inside, barely able to contain his grin, but he hoped everyone would simply misinterpret it.

“You have a very bad case of pink-eye there, Herm,” he teased.

“Dr. Gottlieb. And it’s not pink-eye. You might want to polish up on your medical degree, _Doctor_ Geiszler.”

“Dr. Geiszler MD. They could make a TV show out of me.”

“Doubtful. You also don’t practice.”

“Well, how about Kaiju Vet then?”

Hermann didn’t deign that with an answer.

Newt grinned more. He loved morning banter.

He was getting a delivery of Kaiju parts today, most notably pieces of Otachi’s tongue, which was a fascinating thing, and he was still chasing after acquiring more of the baby. Hannibal had probably already taken it apart and labeled the pieces with the price he wanted to have.

He would have to talk to Herc about his shopping list.

 

* * *

 

Newton went into Hong Kong to get that tattoo. Otachi’s tongue, that bright blue, those sparkling bulbs. Like a flower. An alien, fascinating, deadly flower. It wrapped around his neck like an exclusive piece of jewelry. The tattoo artist knew him, had done so many of his tattoos before, and he paid him graciously.

Looking into the mirror, regarding the new addition, Newton grinned.

“Beautiful.”

It was. Amazingly detailed, with shades of blue that made it come to life. It was all fresh and red and there was a little swelling, but he knew it would be just as perfect as the others. It peeked out over his collar, would be a teasing little piece of blue for others to wonder what it was.

He grinned.

A bandage had to cover it up for now to keep it from infection. He knew how to care for it.

Afterwards he drifted through the streets, enjoying the bustle, the markets, everything. He ate what Hermann would call questionable food, which tasted really great, bought a few bottles of probably home-brewed alcohol, and he enjoyed a sticky-sweet treat that had his teeth ache and lips almost stick together.

 

*

 

“Another one.” Hermann shook his head.

“It’s a piece of art! A masterpiece!”

“It’s ink on skin. A permanent disfiguration. And that thing almost ate you.”

“It didn’t.”

Hermann grimaced. “I can sadly see that.”

“Aw, c’mon. That’s harsh. Even for you.” Newt smiled widely.

“You tattooed the tongue of a Kaiju that hunted you down and nearly ate you onto your neck, Geiszler.” Hermann stared at him, leaning hard on his cane. Then he snorted. “At least you now have them all.”

Newton smiled more.

“Kaiju groupie,” Hermann muttered, but there was no real fire to it, and limped away.

To his side of the lab.

“And it could fly!” Newton called happily.

It got him a grumble.

Newton stayed where he was, still grinning, feeling elated. The eddies floating around him, all from Hermann, told him that his colleague wasn’t in such a sour mood at all.

He caught fragments of their Drift, the memories from Hermann, and he knew his colleague of so many years had always been fascinated by the tattoos. Revolted at first, then disgusted that anyone would permanently color his skin like that, then he had watched over the years.

With interest.

Like he had developed a fondness for Newton. Fondness! Newton would have loved to hug Hermann just then and there.

_You like me!_ ran through his head. 

Dark eyes suddenly looked up and Newt smiled brightly. 

He felt really, really good. 

tbc... 


	3. Chapter 3

His brain had always been a chaotic place to be. Too many thoughts firing at once, too many ideas floating around, and Newton sometimes felt like a manic squirrel, chasing after all of them.

It wasn’t that he had only half-baked theories and never managed to get anything done. He held six doctorates and if the Kaijus hadn’t come and caught his interest, he might have been collecting more. He was simply interested in everything. He dove into whatever caught his attention and he pursued it relentlessly.

He had built a Drift mechanism from scrap! He had proven he could Drift with a Kaiju. He had proven that Kaijus were clones. He had been right!

So had been Hermann, a part of him reminded him and it was a giddy, elated feeling that hit him then. Yes, Hermann had been just as right as Newton, and they were rockstars!

So yes, his brain was in chaos, his thoughts unraveling, and it shouldn’t be anything new, but it was.

It was different.

Those rapid-fire explosions were worse than before, interlaced with Kaiju hive memories.

And emotions.

Damn, who would have thought those things had emotions? More than rage, actually.

Most prominent had always been and still was the loneliness. They needed to be with another of their kind and that had imprinted on Newton.

He sought out company. He wasn’t a recluse to begin with, so he hovered around others, talked their ears off, and he enjoyed himself, but it was never enough. He was in the middle of a crowd of people in Hong Kong, surrounded by human beings, enjoying the atmosphere, and it wasn’t enough.

When he was in the lab, with Gottlieb, things quieted down. It was like a switch had been flicked. There was a warm blanket around his mind, soothing the fires, guiding his thoughts. He could make sense of it. He could work.

It was almost harmonic.

They rarely talked, aside from Hermann flinging a few insults his way, but the bite was missing. Ever since they had Drifted, the other man looked at him differently.

Like Newton looked at Hermann in a different way.

Sometimes Newton wondered what Gottlieb had seen. There was so much in his past, so many ups and down, so many emotions, some connected to Hermann. He wondered what he had made of it all.

Newton could feel him, a steady, quiet, calm presence. Cooler than Newton’s own solar flares and miniature, nuclear explosions. More in control. Logical. Comfort in numbers.

 

_Numbers never lie, never betray._

 

The memory-thought-emotion flashed through him. It almost felt like it had come directly from Hermann.

Newton took that comfort, made it his own, and it was a balm to the heat. He worked productively, without straying, without going off on wild tangents, and he even made it through a whole afternoon of writing diligently. He wasn’t distracted by all the juicy Kaiju bits. He finished his notes on what he had seen in the hive mind and it was a big success.

He felt like celebrating.

Gottlieb scowled at him over his calculations. There was a three-D model of the Breach hovering in front of him. He was in the middle of his math and Newton’s little dance of success had apparently interrupted some epic thinking.

But there was humor there, a spark of something deeper. There was a sense of ease. Hermann Gottlieb had never been even close to being at ease. He didn’t know how to unwind, how to switch off that big brain of his.

Newton grinned and dug around the drawer for his rubber gloves. He had earned himself some Kaiju.

Gottlieb gave a grunt of disgust and his fingers flew over the keys, changing the model to fit whatever he had been theorizing about.

Newton felt something brush over him. Warm and calming again. He felt the spark of humor he had seen in the Drift. The humor Hermann truly possessed. It was bright and alive and so very, very careful.

Newton had touched it and he liked it. A lot.

 

*

 

When he finally finished dissecting the piece of skin on his table, it was late. Newton yawned, feeling ever bone in his body, every bruise he had suffered running away from a Kaiju.

It was already two in the morning.

Well, damn.

Hermann was still puttering around, but it looked more like he was waiting for Newton to finish up.

Not that he needed to lock up after his lab partner. It was just his very anal way of living.

Eyes narrowed at Newton and he smiled brightly.

“Ready to call it a night?” he asked loudly.

“It is two fifteen in the morning, Geiszler.”

“And look who’s still here. I thought you needed your beauty sleep, Hermann.”

Gottlieb grabbed his tweed jacket – when had that come off? And please, someone buy the man a fitting shirt! It looked like something he had inherited from his grandfather.

Again Newton was given the pleasure of a hard, disapproving look, then his colleague limped out of the room.

 

 

He hated the fact that he couldn’t get any rest that night. He was tossing and turning, catching a little sleep for a while, but he felt alone and empty. The Ghosts drifting between them were of little comfort.

The hive connection wanted more.

Kaiju weren’t born as pack animals. They didn’t curl up together. They were cloned, bred to fight, to destroy worlds.

But as they grew from little clumps of shapeless cells into the massive fighting machines, the brain latched on to the dozens of growing minds. There was always more than one. They were always evolving, categories, the humans called them.

As they were coldly bioengineered to perfection, the mind was incorporated into the hive. It helped with the pain as their bodies were formed to their masters’ plans, to fight the humans.

They were never alone, until they went through the Breach.

It hurt and they were lonely.

Newton curled up, breathing hard, trying to push away that sense of… being the only one. No one there but him.

 

_Alone. Desolation. Hurt. Anger. Hurt. Pain. Alone!_

 

He flailed for something and found only his empty sheets. He reached for the warmth of the Ghosts and found them of little comfort. They wrapped around him, like trying to hug him close, pulling at him, whispering, but he didn’t follow.

Each image from the alien hive mind was like a razor blade, cutting deeper, leaving bloody smears on his human mind. Darkness crept at the edge of his vision and his mind was going into a fast decline of terror and abject misery.

Newton shivered with the memories, with the emotions he still felt as if he was there, had been there, had seen and felt it all. He had been all those Kaijus, had fought all those battles, had lived all the nightmares

He swallowed hard.

He wasn’t a Kaiju! He hadn’t been abandoned. He didn’t need…

Sitting up, Newton scrubbed his hands over his face, through his hair, making it stick on end.

He finally went into the bathroom and splashed water into his face – and it was a scary image that looked at him from the mirror; red eyes, pale face, unshaven and bags under his eyes. His pupils were blown wide and from his pallor. It was clear he was not working through this.

Actually, he was quickly spiraling out of control.

Newton stumbled out of his quarters and roamed the Shatterdome until he found himself in the hangar bay where Skyfall Prime was. The last surviving Jaeger of the averted apocalypse. Mechanics and engineers were swarming around her, their work laid out for them.

He caught a glimpse of Raleigh Becket, another sleepless wanderer, but he didn’t approach. He barely knew the guy.

Newton finally padded back into the lab and sat on his chair, staring at the table top. His thoughts were a churning mass, sluggish to a certain degree, and nothing was really making sense.

Except that he couldn’t sleep.

 

*

 

When Hermann limped into the lab at eight a.m. sharp, Newton was almost done labeling his specimens and cleaning up his lab space. His brain hadn’t been capable of any more complicated form of thought, so he had used his insomnia to be at least a little productive.

Gottlieb’s expression was worth it. He looked almost dumbstruck.

“Did you finally dose yourself up with some alien pathogen out of that unhygienic assortment of biologicals?” he asked, sharply, keen eyes running over Newton’s decidedly rumpled form.

Newton grinned at him. “And a good morning to you, too, Hermann. Sleep well?”

Because the man looked decidedly pale. More than was normal even for him.

Gottlieb didn’t grace that question with an answer.

“No coffee?” Newton whined.

His fingers fluttered over the desk, rearranging tools and spare parts.

“The mess hall is open to the public,” came the even reply. “Even you can manage to get yourself some coffee. You might want to shower and change your clothes first, though.”

Newton looked at his rumpled shirt, untucked from his pants. His sleeves were rolled up as usual. His tie was… huh, probably still in his quarters. The top buttons of the shirt were open; he wasn’t wearing an undershirt. Tattoos peeked out, colorful against the white fabric.

“No, I’m good,” he declared and pushed away from his desk.

Would the world please stop turning?

“I would advise chamomile tea in your condition. Coffee might not be the best idea, seeing how high you are already.”

“I am not high. I don’t do drugs. Science is my addiction,” he declared cheerfully, still fighting vertigo.

And gravity. Damn gravity. Who had invented that? He would have to have a word with them.

Hermann watched him, the disapproval clear to see, but the Ghosts spoke a different language. They were around him like a living thing. They brushed over his skin, like a caress, and he almost leaned into it. Newton felt a bit calmer now, more serene, like his mind had finally found a way to channel all that manic thought energy.

He briefly closed his eyes.

Briefly. Really.

So why was he sitting on the couch when he opened them again, a disturbed looking Hermann hovering in front of him?

“Did you even sleep last night, Geiszler?”

“Hn?”

The exasperated sigh was so… expected… it was comforting. Newton looked into those brown eyes, fascinated by the dark color, by the expressiveness. He had never noticed how expressive they were. That pale face, the eternal scorn, the snobbishness, it all distracted from those eyes.

But never from the ridiculous haircut.

Newton chased his thoughts, trying to reign them in, get to the point. Actually, he tried to find a point.

“Stay here. Sit. Don’t you dare move,” Gottlieb ordered sharply. “I’ll get you something for your stomach. It’s hopelessly too late for your brain anyway.”

Newton smiled and let his head sink back against the cushion. The knot was unwinding, his whole body was relaxing, and all he wanted was to curl up and get some rest.

Which he did.

He dropped off like a stone and woke five hours later to cold coffee, dry toast, stale eggs, and the sharp glare of his colleague watching him from behind his Breach model.

Newton had never felt better in his life.

 

 

He did shower.

He did shave.

And he found fresh clothes. He dressed in what Hermann called a mixture of hippie and some homeless vagrant.

 

*

 

He really got some work done that day.

Until it was past nine again and Hermann was tapping his cane on the metal floor, clearly annoyed that Newton was still here, still working, still absorbed.

“You are not the last person to leave and lock up, Hermann. You can leave me alone. I won’t blow anything up.”

The twist to the thin lips said it all.

“One time,” Newton muttered, under his breath. “It wasn’t even a real explosion.”

“I found Kaiju fluids in my notes, Geiszler!” his lab partner snapped. “Mucus! In my notes!”

Oh yes. That. Pages stuck together, ruined note books, and a few of Hermann’s books had been beyond help. The man had been livid for days. Well, three weeks and four days.

“Dr. Geiszler.”

He sighed. Hermann was like an old school principal. He even had the same tone of voice.

“Coming,” he sang. “And you are not the head of this lab, let alone the department, Herm. You can’t tell me when to start working or for how long.”

The glare was laser sharp, but the Ghosts weren’t a bright, angry snarl. They were a caress over his tired brain. They were pushing him gently into obedience and he did follow without thinking.

 

 

Only to be in his quarters, again bouncing around like a pin ball in a machine.

 

 

He felt like he had gone for a week without sleep. He winced as another image trickled out of the Kaiju memory hive.

 

_Blood... death... fight… pain…_

 

So much pain from what the precursors did to the clones, how they slapped together muscle and bone and watched it grow at an accelerated rate.

Newton was breathing hard. When he was aware of his surroundings again he was lying on the cold bathroom tiles, shaking badly.

Alone.

He felt the emptiness nearly take him down with it, fighting it every step of the way.

_No... no, please... I’m not alone! I am human, not a Kaiju and I’m not alone!_

He clawed his way back to his feet, using the sink and the toilet to give him somewhere to hold onto. He inhaled deeply, willing his body to stop shaking.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cursed.

 

 

He tried it with a bottle of booze and that numbed him for a few hours. It was the good stuff from Hong Kong, very potent.

But it wasn’t enough.

 

 

Newton had no idea how long he sat in a corner of his quarters, knees drawn up, arms curled around them, staring at nothing. He knew he had cried. He knew he had screamed. He knew that if he were a more physical person he would have thrown around a few things.

He blinked, feeling the dried tears on his skin, his eyelids, and he sniffled a little.

Damn.

Fuck, damn, shit! Bloody hell!

Shakily he managed to get up, his legs weak, like jelly, and aching all over. He felt drained, wrung out, and the tremors were fine shivers now. How he made it out of his quarters, down the hallway and through the corridors was a mystery to him. There weren't many people around. The few he met didn't really give him a close enough look or just figured that Dr. Geiszler was pulling a new record in non-stop work, the way he probably looked.

Newton tried not to think too much about the fact that he gravitated to Hermann’s place. He didn’t really think of it until he stood in front of the other man’s door, blinking almost stupidly at the steel hatch.

He also tried not to think about the door being unlocked, his presence expected.

Or that the quiet presence in his mind was like a heavy fact in his life now. Within three days after the Drift.

Hermann was laying in his bed, propped up on pillows, some journal in his hands, reading.

Their eyes met.

Newton realized he must look a total mess. A wreck.

No words were exchanged. The silent invitation was clear as day, pulling Newton closer like a magnet.

 

_Your leg…_

_My leg is fine._

 

Those weren't really words. It was more a mixture of emotions, images and garbled sounding murmurs. But they made perfect sense.

The thoughts-emotions-memories drifted between them, calmly centered in Hermann’s case, frantic, a little manic, and undisciplined in Newton’s.

Relax. He had to relax.

He couldn’t, wouldn’t… didn’t want to fight it. The sensations washed over him, through what he still called the Ghost-Drift, but it was so much more now. He realized that, though his brain refused to analyze the matter at the moment.

So he toed off his shoes and slid under the covers.

Newton made a note to research Drift effects again as he fell asleep to Hermann’s warmth and embrace.

 

*

 

In the morning he slipped out of bed, feeling so much better than the past thirty-six hours.

Hermann made no mention of what had happened.

tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

Q became something of a fixed point in their lab space. Newton didn’t mind. He liked the former quartermaster of the Vancouver Shatterdome. He was a bright kid. Very bright. And multi-talented. He had great insights and he was more than superficially interested in Kaiju research.

He was also a well of information about Drift effects and Newton poked questions at him for hours. He cross-referenced it all with what was already widely known and what was not so widely discussed. He read through notes and pages upon pages of the early scribbling of Caitlin Lightcap.

Q patiently let him pester him, though there was a knowing light in those too sharp eyes. The other man knew something was up, but he hadn’t actively asked just yet.

Of course he was here mainly because of Gottlieb, whose code he had adapted and changed and made his own nifty version of, but Newton didn’t mind sharing.

Hermann was a different matter.

 

 

“Why don’t you leave me in peace?” Gottlieb snapped, rounding on Newton, who just grinned. “And keep your tentacles and entrails to yourself!”

“You love my tentacles and entrails.”

“It’s a disgusting collection of biohazard material in a place ill-equipped to handle an outbreak!” Hermann replied angrily. “The last time…”

“It was only _one_ time, Herm. _One time_! You make it sound like I spray toxins all over your antiquated blackboards on a regular basis!”

The man would dig that up again and again. Forever and ever. One teensy-weensy mistake and he would hold that over Newton’s head until they both hit the grave.

And it wasn’t like it had been really hazardous. Or poisonous. The alarms had gone off, sure. Pentecost had glared at them, right. Hermann hadn’t spoken to him for a week.

Oh, fun times.

“There shouldn’t be any toxins even close to my blackboards!” his colleague argued.

Newton caught the entrance of Q’s other half and waved at Bond. Newton had only ever seen the blond from afar, but he would have to be blind not to see the affection that ran deeper than mere co-pilots and Drift partners.

Yeah, some guys had all the luck, he mused.

“What brings you down here?” Q asked as he walked over to the other man.

No touching. No secret smiles. Normal interaction. Ah, yes, the wonders of Drifting.

“Looking for some peace and quiet?” James joked.

“Wrong place,” Newt announced, grinning widely.

He cleaned some slime off his arm and grinned more when he caught Hermann’s look of disgust. His colleague pointedly turned to his computer.

“Don’t mind him. I never do. No manners, that man,” he said flippantly.

That got Newton a glare, but the heat was missing, And the warmth he felt, the ghostly echoes, were enough to reassure him that there was no malice.

There hadn’t been in a while.

“Herm, play nice,” Newton called.

“My name is not Herm! You were in my head, you should finally know!”

“Yep, I was in your head,” he said brightly, then turned to Bond. “Scary place.”

From the look in those intensely blue eyes, the Jaeger pilot had caught on to something.

Huh. Must be a talent. Q sometimes gave him the same looks.

“Do you two still Ghost-Drift?” Bond asked, sounding casual.

Newton blinked, mind stalling for a second, stunned into speechlessness. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw Hermann slowly turn on his seat, face a bit paler than before.

The Ghosts between them were intense, full of shock at the quiet observation from Hermann and not-so-quiet excitement from Newt.

“W-what?”

“You do,” Q said knowingly.

Newton glanced around, but there was no one else present and the door to the lab was closed. There was a momentary surge, like a tiny frission of shock, then the dark eyes narrowed minutely.

“We don’t actually Ghost-Drift,” he finally said. “It’s more of a residual echo.”

Hermann grimaced, but he didn’t correct him.

_Yes, I know. Ghost-Drifts are echoes, Hermann_ , Newton thought. _Live with it. This is my show._

“You can catch faint echoes, feel the other’s presence, are aware where he is,” Q listed.

Newton’s eyes sharpened. “Yes.”

“It never stops.”

“I…uh… kinda… no?”

“What about the Kaiju?”

He grimaced. “We’re not having Kaiju moments, if that’s what you are getting at.”

“Good god, no,” Hermann muttered, sounding disgusted. He had by now abandoned his work, fingers wrapped tightly around his cane.

Newton felt a sliver of something, like almost-pain. He knew what had hurt his colleague so badly, had been there, had watched and felt it in a remote sense of the word. He knew of the array of scar tissue, the painful recovery, the predictions that he might never walk again.

But Hermann walked. Limped. He was mobile.

Those dark eyes met his, daring him to say something. Newton had never been more aware of the echoes between them, that phantom touch of another mind.

Maybe not so phantom.

_It’s okay_ , he thought.

And he wished he could take away that distant pain, the cramping muscles.

From the look in Bond’s eyes, he was aware of what was happening, though he didn’t comment. Neither did Q.

“But the memories are still there,” Newton rallied to break the awkward second of silence. “Like we were part of them. And we were. It was scary. Freakingly scary good.” He laughed, sounding a little forced. “But it helps that we shared the load. Even if Hermann keeps bitching about it.”

“I do not bitch!”

And they were back to the snark. He loved it. He could work with it.

“See?” Newton chuckled. “Bitching. I thought it would fade, like the Ghosts. It hasn’t and whatever I tried, it’s not giving me anything. No readings, nothing. We got these memories between us, from another dimension, from another race, and they are ours now.”

“We still Ghost, too,” Q told them calmly.

Newton blinked and even Hermann looked intrigued. He felt the interest spark through him and then Hermann was there, almost close enough to touch. Newton felt something like a faint awareness, like tendrils of Hermann interlacing with what was Newton Geiszler.

It took all of him not to turn and stare at his lab partner, reach out and curl his fingers around the other man’s wrist.

“When was the last time you Drifted?” Hermann asked sharply.

“The day we blew up the Breach.”

Both men exchanged looks.

“Hot damn!” Newton breathed, his excitement rising. “That was…! You still Ghost after months? Months, Hermann! Months!”

“I can hear him just fine, Newton,” Hermann chastised.

“And you still…” Newton made a vague gesture, ignoring the comment. “Completely?”

“It was never less,” Bond agreed.

“Telepathy?”

“No. Awareness.”

“That is… cool,” Newton breathed. “And… freaky, but cool. I know Aleksis and Sasha had episodes like that, especially after that eighteen-hour neural handshake. Man, that made it into the history books! It took them a month to feel less connected. I asked them for readings, but they said no. Sadly. But I got my hands on what the Russian Shatterdome archives had. Compared it to that thing between Herm and me.”

“Dr. Gottlieb,” came the growl.

“Be nice, Herm. Anyway. Not like us. I got our brain readings and it’s probably all screwed because of the Kaiju between us. Would you be willing to let me scan you?”

Q shrugged and Bond, after a quick glance at his co-pilot, nodded.

“Don’t damage them, Newton,” Hermann told him sternly.

“Oh shut up! I know what I’m doing.”

“That would be the first time.”

“Are you going to bring that up every damn time?”

“Yes.”

Newton huffed, but there was a fondness there, a closeness. Fingers brushed over his shirt. He felt them as if they had touched naked skin. It was a touch mirrored in the Ghosts and he almost stared at the other man. Hermann was already back at his desk, but the lines in his face were not harsh or angry. The expression in his eyes reflected what Newton felt.

 

*

 

That night he didn’t even hesitate.

He was in Hermann’s quarters, curled up close, Hermann’s fingers stroking over his neck and into his hair.

He slept like a log.

 

*

 

He couldn’t stop himself the next nights either.

Newton didn’t really have nightmares, only these flashes of memories, disturbing and alien in origin. He felt the surges, and that uncontrollable, intense need for human contact. To feel someone, Hermann, only Hermann, touch him.

It kept him awake, his mind flailing to understand, to make sense.

 

_Anger._

_Fury._

_Blood._

 

He fell back, assaulted by too much all of a sudden. Shaking badly, he tried to force the images away.

 

_Mindless fury._

_Kill!_

 

He cried, flinging the memories away.

His mind turned into a mass of molten lava. The world transformed into hell.

And his body sought the closest comfort it could.

 

 

Hermann never said a word.

The arms around his body were strong, calming, comforting. The fingers in his hair were welcome, soothing and lightly caressing him.

It was comfort so much deeper than skin. It was soul-deep and Newt knew he was craving it, needed it, even if he tried not to give in to the pull.

Still he was there. Night after night.

The door was never closed.

The memory flashes were suddenly reined in, tamed… buffered.

Newton sometimes wondered if Hermann had them, too. Did he suffer from nightmares or was it only him? It seemed to be only him. But why? Was his brain so different?

He almost laughed. Ye-eah. Probably. At least compared to Dr. Hermann Gottlieb’s.

And he had Drifted twice. With a Kaiju. Always with a Kaiju. He had probably messed himself up more than he would ever be able to comprehend.

Well, fuck.

 

*

 

And then they moved out of their cramped quarters into the empty apartments that had been reserved for families before the Shatterdomes had started to close down and personnel had been reduced. Now it was a place for them. Herc had reassigned them their living space.

Newton was excited to get more space. He had earned it. Saving-the-world-earned-it! The bedroom alone was the size of his old quarters. There was a good-sized bathroom, and something that was both living room and office space.

He turned it into mostly office space. The rest was for his collectibles. Kaijus and Jaegers. Action figures and models and figurines. Not to mention his posters, which also went up in the bedroom.

“It looks like a five-year-old’s playground,” Hermann remarked.

“The world’s smartest five-year-old!” Newton declared.

“Debatable.”

And with that volley he limped through the connecting door and into his own, very neat, place.

Yes, they had a connecting door.

Neither Hermann nor Newton said anything about it. It was also never locked.

The nights didn’t change and the door was open.

He never slept alone.

The ghostly memories dimmed a little. At least the Kaiju parts; not that he missed them.

He still had the whole set, though he could now look at them in a more detached manner, and careful questioning revealed that Hermann remembered it all, too. Like they had been there for it all. They had it at their disposal, a recall neither man really wanted to make, but in the name of science they did. They wrote it all down and both knew it was groundbreaking.

Hermann’s presence was still there. Always. That sensation of the other man close by. It was kind of reassuring and frightening in one, especially since Newton was convinced it was only him. Gottlieb showed no signs of discomfort, of more annoyance than normal, and it had to be one-sided.

He had taken the Drift twice. The Kaiju Fun Park Ride. It had stuck him with Kaiju hive mind feelings and the sensation of Ghosting with Hermann.

His lab partner had become like a part of him; and they were always together. Newton didn’t really want to think of what an inconvenience this had to be for Gottlieb, but he did.

Sometimes.

Hermann was such an outspoken, blunt and direct man. He wouldn’t just take something he disagreed with and never mention how wrong it was. Or how much he objected to it.

He never objected to Newton’s quiet need for physical comfort.

Why? Why did he tolerate it? He tolerated so little else the other scientist did when it trespassed into his lab space, his personal space, anything at all connected to him.

Newton was afraid to ask.

So he didn’t.

tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

Talking to Q helped a little. Hearing about the closeness the former quartermaster of the Vancouver Shatterdome had with James Bond. About the continued Ghost-Drifting, strong and unabated.

It wasn’t the same, though. There were a whole can of other feelings between the two British pilots that influenced the Ghosts. Newton wasn’t touching that can with a long stick. Not out of shame, more like out of a sense of self-preservation.

Ye-eah. He had that. Sometimes. Not when it came to Kaijus, but he had it.

 

 

“Would you do it again?” Q asked one late night as they were going over the data.

Newton looked almost thoughtful. His tie was askew, the white shirt rumpled, his hair more tousled than before. He had pushed the sleeves up, revealing the colorful tattoos. He felt tired, but too wired to think about sleeping. He had spent the day with his most favorite Kaiju tongue and it had been one revelation after another. Evolving clones, bio-engineered to take down the Jaegers aside, Otachi had been something different.

It had been his hunter.

It should frighten him, but Newton was strangely tickled. He, a tiny ant of a human being, had been thought of as dangerous enough to send a gigantic beast after.

Hermann’s look of disgust and disbelief when he had first voiced that thought had been hilarious.

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Not alone.” His tone of voice was almost uncharacteristically soft, thoughtful. “It almost killed me the first time. Like the first Jaeger pilots trying to fly them solo. Hermann… his mind was what I needed and look what it did to him. Us. It connected us.”

There it was again, that feeling of Hermann close by. He was in the lab, yes. They were never not together in the lab. They were never away from the other.

No one remarked on it.

It was what they had become. A hive of two minds.

The presence of Hermann within him wasn’t unwanted. It was calming, reining him in sometimes, feeding him with new energy. Newton sometimes thought that he should mind, should push the Ghosts away, but he didn’t.

The Drift had changed their brains.

He sensed Hermann close by, as if he was waiting, as if he was part of Newton. And Newton wanted this so badly, but still he fought it and it hurt more and more every time.

Maybe it was brain-damage. At least on his side. The bloody nose had stopped, the headaches were no longer, but something had remained in him. He needed company. He needed human contact in form of touch.

At night.

Always at night.

Freaky, strange, undocumented brain-damage. But hey, who had ever connected their brain to a Kaiju before? No one. Newton had been _the_ pioneer.

He didn’t care because… he didn’t mind!

Q nodded. “But you are still your own.”

“Like you and James?” he probed.

“Yes.”

“You want him close.” It wasn’t even a question. He had seen it. The two were incredibly close, even if they never showed it in public.

Unlike Raleigh and Chuck, who were getting to a point where the bets were increasing. Newton had his own on three different scenarios. He was hoping to cash out soon.

Hermann hadn’t commented verbally on the betting pools. His expression had been enough.

“Yes. Very much.”

“Even now? After months?” Newton asked, fascinated.

He hadn’t had a real relationship in, oh, years. And before that it had usually ended quite spectacularly after a few weeks. It never mattered whether the other had been a colleague, a Jaeger tech, someone else in the Shatterdome, or someone completely outside his strange little world.

It never lasted.

His longest, more or less functional relationship of any kind had been and still was working with Hermann.

Go figure. A psycho-analyst would have a field day.

And had he said functional? Dysfunctional. Yeah, that was it.

“Yes.” Q smiled slightly. “We’re still our own people, Newt. We’re individuals. We don’t share every thought or breath.”

“Neither do Hermann and I. And when he was in the Drift, this crazy three-way,” he grimaced at that, “don’t tell him that I called it that, he was what got me through.”

But Hermann had probably heard it if the lowering eyebrows were any indication. Or the slight spike Newton felt from the connection he had to the other man. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch.

“Counter-balance.”

Newton rubbed his eyes. Counter-balance. Left side, right side. Two people connected through a neural bridge. Two people fitting together.

Not them.

They had never fit.

Left and right. Logic and creativity.

No, not really. Not. Really.

Right?

Shit.

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “I just know… after all this… we always could work with each other, y’know. It wasn’t half as bad as someone might think. Pentecost wouldn’t have tolerated it, if it hadn’t been good. I could have had another lab, but I liked riling him up. And I think he liked me making him mad. I was in his head, he was in mine, and together we were in the Kaiju hive. It changes you. Me more than him. I’m the unstable particle in this; probably always have been. Everywhere and nowhere, always all over the place, and he’s that calm center… Right now it feels like… he’s the one keeping me sane, y’know.”

Q nodded. It wasn’t just politeness, it was true understanding.

Newton glanced at Hermann, who refused to acknowledge that he had seen him.

“We were all that was left of the research division and now we’re… I don’t know. Maybe the only experts? Real experts? Because we were there? And I can’t think about ever not having him there, Q. It’s frightening.”

It was a huge confession.

“Does he have family?”

“Had,” Newton answered quietly.

Vanessa.

Not the love of his life. Actually, it was a mystery how Hermann had made it as far as meeting the woman. Hermann hadn’t really known what to do with her, a colleague in his field, a bit more outgoing, but likewise not very interested in marriage.

It had been more of a business proposal. Like it had been expected of them both, to be normal, not to be eccentrics.

“She died,” he said.

Crushed underneath a building that had buried her car. Even in Hermann’s memories the emotions had been unclear. He hadn’t loved her. There had been no emotional bonds.

“He has siblings, but estranged. No contact ever since the Kaijus came. Same with my family. Most of mine anyway. Haven’t seen my parents in ages. No wife or girlfriend. Or boyfriend,” he added with a breathy laugh. “No time. Too many Kaijus. Now it’s too much research. We have so much… it’ll keep generations busy. So, no. No family.”

But they had each other. It was such a crazy thought.

Newton glanced at Hermann again, saw the dark eyes on him, sharp like lasers, boring into him. There was an understanding there that almost had him breathless.

He tore his gaze away.

“Right now I can’t imagine working with anyone else,” he confessed, voice wavering a little. “Living with anyone else. I mean, it’s not like you and Bond,” he quickly added.

Q almost laughed.

“It’s just… the dreams. We seem to be drawn together; well, me to him. Hermann never comes to me. And sometimes…” He blew out a breath. “Do you know there is a door between our places? It’s not what the gossip girls say. But yes, we share a bed sometimes. Often. Well, more than sometimes and often. When I’m alone, at night, it feels cold and lonely, and then there’s suddenly someone and it’s good and right and… I wake up and it’s okay.”

He scrubbed a hand through his already messy hair. His mind was just as much of a mess. Maybe even more so. He still kept bouncing around in his head, thoughts colliding with each other, and he couldn’t… wouldn’t try to explain what was between them.

Because it was only him.

He was the mess. He had to clean up his act. He had to get his stuff together.

“It sounds awful, right?” he asked, trying to look more cheerful than he felt.

“No,” Q said softly, voice very quiet. “It sounds good.”

Newt had this strange mix of relief and hopelessness inside him. “I know he’s… not proud of it. I mean, he’s a brilliant guy and all. He’s… he doesn’t need anyone.”

“You were in his brain.”

A soft exhalation. “Yes. And he had the same crappy childhood all geniuses have. And he doesn’t like to be alone. And he’s... stuck with me now.” Newton stopped, laughing softly. “His greatest curse, huh?”

Q didn’t look like he agreed with that analysis and conclusion.

Newton struggled with the emotional wave, then pushed it away and decided a change of topic was in order. As much as Hermann accused him of being too outgoing, too emotional, too everything, right now he decided to channel a piece of Gottlieb and push everything into a drawer.

Drawer shut, locked, ignored.

“Well!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands. “Let’s get on with this!”

Q accepted the change of topic

 

 

“Ask him,” Q said before he left the lab that night. “Ask him about his side.”

“There is no side.”

It got him a long, even look. Newton refused to think that yes, Hermann Gottlieb might be having these flashes, too.

He wouldn’t keep quiet about them. It wasn’t a Gottlieb way. He would accuse Newt of doing it on purpose, of disrupting his structured thought processes.

“Talk to him, Newt. Ask him and talk about it.”

 

 

He didn’t.

 

 

Instead he started to write down what his mind pushed at him. Everything he had seen in the Kaiju’s hive mind. Everything he remembered.

Sometimes memories from Gottlieb wormed itself into his notes.

Newton stared at them, then erased them with fierce determination. He didn’t need notes on them. He knew. He remembered. He would always remember. He would always feel.

 

* * *

 

When the new Marshall of the Hong Kong Shatterdome strolled into their lab, Newton looked up in moderate surprise.

“Marshall Hansen,” he greeted him, a bit more wary than he usually was when it came to the military.

Word around the Shatterdome was that Hansen would stay in charge, that the Shatterdome would remain open as it was, that the United Nations would open more, would restock the Jaegers, would stay vigilant.

No one had pulled any of Newton or Hermann’s credentials and access codes. They were still the only scientists present, their two-man expert team on Kaijus, but who knew what the PPDC would think of next?

“At ease, Dr. Geiszler. Newt,” he added with a grin when Newton opened his mouth.

“What brings you here?” he asked carefully.

“I thought I’d personally drop by, ask how you would feel about staying on.”

“Staying on?” Newton parroted.

He caught Hermann’s interest, that sharp spike resonating inside him. He had gotten better at telling his own emotions from his colleague’s by now. Hermann was always sharper, more defined, not like a tsunami or a volcano or a tornado.

Yeah, force of nature. Newton Geiszler, at your service.

He stopped that train of thought.

“Unless you have better job offers. You are the resident expert on Kaiju biology, Newt. And Dr. Gottlieb is the foremost expert on the Breach and possibly the Anteverse and the precursors.”

Huh. He had never really, seriously thought about it. The Shatterdome was like the center of it all, the nexus, the Grail of Kaiju studies. He had access to everything here. He had a network.

Newton almost danced a little at that thought.

Yeah, he had a network. He had connections. He knew people who knew people who could get him stuff. Anything at all.

“No offers, really. Maybe there’s a book or ten in the future,” Newton said quickly. “And a few tours and speeches and Nobel prizes, but right now? Uh, nothing. And really, I’m not much for speeches.”

He could hear Hermann’s snort and manfully ignored it.

Herc chuckled. “Good to hear. If you want to stay here, you are welcome. I’d understand if you wanted a quieter place for your research, though.”

“Are you kidding me? This is the source! Everything is here, right here, and in Hong Kong! I mean, the black market alone is ripe with parts and…”

Newton broke off, flushing a little. Hermann just sighed, looking almost embarrassed to be seen with him as a colleague.

“Not that I frequent any such places,” he stuttered.

Herc chuckled. “Of course not. I wouldn’t have signed off on any trades with a man known as Hannibal Chau anyway. By the way, he sends his best and the order is ready for shipping.”

Newton looked mortified and elated in one. He really had a problem containing his excitement at the prospect of new Kaiju bits and pieces.

“Well, seeing as it isn’t in your future plans to move, I take it you won’t say no to an expanded lab space and a team?”

No, he wouldn’t. Of course not! Lackeys to do his bidding? Any scientist’s dream! Well, maybe not Hermann’s. The man had that constipated look again.

“With everything currently getting rearranged, you have almost free pick where you want to move. We can either knock down a few walls or get you somewhere else completely.”

“Walls,” Newton immediately decided. He knew the adjacent labs. If he got the whole area, he would be one happy scientist.

“Have fun deciding, Newt. Dr. Gottlieb,” Herc nodded. “I value both your work. You guys saved our collective asses.”

Newton grinned. “Yeah, we rocked.”

“You sure did.”

 

*

 

“So you are staying.”

Newton turned to look at his colleague, a sinking feeling suddenly in his guts.

“Hey, I’m a researcher. I like being where the research is happening, not some stuffy university office.”

Hermann almost winced; just almost.

“And I don’t really want to hand over my Kaijus to anyone else. I want to stay on.”

“Your Kaijus?”

“Hey! Everyone bolted or moved. I stayed. It was my work and I’m taking credit for it,” Newton argued heatedly.

Hermann tilted his head as if he was suddenly intrigued by his behavior.

“I’m not going to sit back and write papers and let just about anyone stomp all over my collection! I know you don’t like it here, that you’d rather have this nice, quiet little office with no room-mate…”

Oh, and that hurt. It was almost like a physical blow. Newton stopped, inhaling sharply and covering it up by clearing his throat.

What if Gottlieb left? He was more of the professor type, the guy who spent hours in front of his blackboard and wrote endless lines of amazing, fuck-fantastic math.

Hermann was the theorist, happy with books and computer data. He could have that anywhere. He could sit in a comfy office, away from the Shatterdome, Hong Kong, Newton… and work.

Okay, so teaching had never been his forte. He had had several bad experiences as the wunderkind at the age of thirteen, standing in front of a class, everyone twice his age.

Newton had seen it in the Drift. He had seen the pain and the humiliation and felt the loneliness.

Another clench had him nearly moan in almost physical pain.

Loneliness.

Newton would be alone.

The presence that was always there, faint in the back of his mind, drew closer. It immediately calmed him as panic flared, soothing his fear. He closed his eyes.

“Don’t be such an idiot,” Hermann’s sharp voice drew him out of that downward spiral.

He looked up.

The dark brown eyes were boring into him, chasing away the pain and soothing him with their cool detachment.

“I am not going to leave.”

“No?” he stuttered. “But you hate it here!”

“You _are_ an idiot.”

And with that he limped over to his blackboards and almost aggressively cleared a small space in the lower left corner.

“I am?” Newton whispered, blinking stupidly.

Something inside him that he had already labeled ‘Hermann’ moved gently, almost carefully, entwining with his panicky mind, serene, calm, soothing.

Always so serene. Always so even in its logic.

Hermann wasn’t going to leave.

Hermann liked him.

Maybe a little more than Newton had ever dared to hope.

He plopped back on the ratty old couch, looking at his hands. They were trembling.

Relief. It was relief.

And the soft echoes in his mind caressed it, hushed the panicky voice. Always there. Always like balm on his soul.

Another thought made itself known. Lab space! At his request, what he wanted, everything! The spark zinged through his head and he barely even registered the wince from Hermann, the way the other man’s head snapped up, narrowed eyes regarding him balefully. The expression softened into something like almost-humor, then was wiped away by the carefully bland mask that was only interrupted by the occasional scowl sometimes.

Pinched. Yeah, Hermann looked pinched again.

Newton laughed, shaking his head. The tremors had stopped and his mind was firing off on a new project: his lab. Hermann’s lab. Their lab. Theirs! And minions!

Okay, so the crazy was always there with a scientist and right now it was a little overwhelming.

The Ghosts smoothed it down a little, almost like petting his head and calling him a good boy, telling him to behave like an adult. Newton shot his colleague a wild smile.

“We’re getting our own, customized lab!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, I heard the Marshall the first time, Geiszler. Don’t get too excited. The military isn’t known for keeping their word when it comes to anything but weapons.”

“Oh, they will. We saved the world, dude! We rocked! We are the Badass Science Team! I should get us matching t-shirts.”

“Please, don’t,” Hermann groaned. “You really are just a very smart five-year-old.”

“Be still my beating heart,” Newton exclaimed, hand clutching his chest over his heart. “You called me smart!”

“I find it interesting what you filter out of a sentence.”

“The important bits. And this five-year-old is getting his customized lab!” Newton smirked. “As is the five-year-old’s nanny.”

“I am not your nanny!”

In his head he was already making plans. Elaborate, grand plans. He needed more room. And storage. Lots and lots of storage! Possibly a separate port to get his specimens delivered to.

Newton bounced off the couch, the emotions of before, the fear of abandonment and loneliness gone completely.

“You are impossible!” Gottlieb muttered, watching him fling himself at his new project.

_But you love me anyway_ , Newton thought with an almost manic edge.

 

 

What stayed, though… throughout all the changes, the expanded lab, the new space, the shiny new equipment, the massive storage area where his organic material now resided… what stayed was their shared area.

The same size.

The same separation into clutter and pristine order. The same line across the floor that Hermann had put there years ago, telling Newt to stay on his side. And keep his biologicals there as well.

The Marshall didn’t even question it.

They were still two halves in one room. One messy, one neat.

It worked.

It gave Newton a sense of… security. No, wait, that sounded like he was insecure. It wasn’t that. It was… it helped order his mind. It helped unravel that ball of yarn with all its knots and splices. It alleviated something, had him think clearly.

The new arrivals had to get used to it.

Newton didn’t care and he didn’t feel like moving into his own space. Enclosed and alone, with no misgiving looks directed his way, no bitching about hazardous materials, about safety procedures, and atrocious work area cleanliness.

No, this was a tested and approved method.

There was no protest from Gottlieb, formal or informal. There were no demands for a quiet, secluded lab, away from the hubbub, the smell, the unhygienic working conditions.

 

* * *

 

“It’s not going away.”

Q looked at him and Newton knew he was fidgeting, masking it by flailing his hands. That he was spreading slimy fluids everywhere was an accepted side-effect. There was a piece of Kaiju baby clone foreleg on his table. A massive talon, actually, including all the joints. He had had to hoist it to the largest table he had right now, and he had brought up the walls his new and improved lab had.

Clear walls that let him still see Hermann work on the other side of the now expanded room.

Newton had to stand on a ladder to get to the first knuckle and he did have a hard time cutting the damn thing open. He wasn’t butchering his specimens like Chau did, simply cutting it apart with no thought to the scientific value.

Layer by layer.

Slowly.

“Still Ghosting,” Skyfall’s co-pilot stated.

“Yeah. How… how do you work with the emotions attached to the memories?”

Q smiled. “The emotions are very much wanted, Newt.”

“Oh. Oh!” Newton grinned. “Yeah, right. Kinda forgot. Uh.”

“You haven’t talked to Dr. Gottlieb about this.”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

Newton shrugged. Hermann seemed to be in much better control of his faculties. Scratch that, he was definitely in much better control. He was a cool and logical mind, someone who put everything into the appropriate drawers and put labels on it. Newton was the complete opposite. He was chaotic and he needed an outlet and he was easily excited and…

He sighed and shook his head.

Q was simply watching him.

“Newt?”

“Hm?”

“Talk to Dr. Gottlieb.”

“Talk to me about what?”

That clipped accent had Newt groan. “Talk to you about your anal way of running a lab? About your ridiculous haircut? The way I rock and you don’t?” he called, the grin almost manic.

Hermann’s expression twisted, brows lowering, and there was a speculative expression in those sharp eyes.

“If you come back from revisiting your toddler years, please clean up this disgusting mess.” He pointed his cane at a stray sample of Kaiju-something-or-other. “It’s in my lab space.”

And with that he turned to his blackboard.

Q raised his eyebrows at him.

Newt chickened out.

 

 

But he was with Hermann every night, feeling the slender but strong arms around him, felt fingers caress his neck. Newton closed his eyes, enjoyed it, let it lull him into a Drift.

A Drift.

He almost laughed.

They were drifting together, were there, were with each other. It filled an empty spot within him and Newton didn’t even know if Hermann felt the same.

Maybe he just humored him.

Then again, Hermann didn’t really do humor. Not really.

Yes, he does, a memory begged to differ. He had seen it all, the parts no one knew about this man. He was funny. He was warm. He cared.

He does care. He does humor. He does… affection.

Fingers danced over his bare arms. Traced the lines of his tattoos.

Newton’s fingers clenched into the striped pajamas and he sighed softly. So at ease. So wonderfully warm, affectionate.

Complete.

 

_Not alone._

_No, you’re not. We are not._

 

Hermann’s touch followed the new tattoo, along his neck, and he unconsciously tilted his head to give him access. It was intimate, but not unwanted.

“It hurts,” Hermann murmured. “Every single time.”

“A million needles,” he says softly.

They rarely talked. Never in the morning. At least not about the night.

“Still you do it.”

“That’s me. Contrary to the bone.”

 

_You know why I did it. You saw it. You know why I want them. You know where and when I got the first one._

 

The fingers were wonderfully soft and cool on the still sensitive skin, finding each line, each color. Newt had taken great care of the tattoo and it had hardly even itched.

There was more there. More words that didn’t pass either man’s lips. It was this strengthening sensation of togetherness, of sharing something akin to a hive, a place they had in common, but it was only them.

Only Newton.

Because he _felt_ it. _He_ was the one with a wreck of a brain, giving in to the need to be with this single human being who seemed to be the emotionally most stunted man Newton had ever known.

The mathematician should be running scared, should be snarking and snapping and yelling, but he was more accepting than Newton had ever thought.

Hermann never asked for this, never silently begged for touch.

It was all Newton. All him. He was the leech.

Something inside of him twisted sharply at the thought. It was caressed and petted and soothed by the ghostly presence, calming him down.

But the thought remained. Well, shit.

It’s how he fell asleep again.

 

 

As always he would wake alone, still comforted by the ghostly touch of Hermann’s mind-presence. He would reach out unconsciously for it, feel it react, even if it might just be his imagination. So he stayed in that oh-so comfortable bed and smiled a little to himself for a little longer. He had to get up after a while, though – call of nature.

For all their separate living arrangements – hey, they had a connecting door! -- he hadn’t really been in his own bed ever since… ever since the first night in the lab. After the end of the world hadn’t happened.

Newton could no longer imagine sleeping alone. His brain, irreversibly damaged from two Kaiju Drifts, had decided that it only quieted down when Hermann was there with him.

Fuck.

Guilt flooded him. He was using his colleague and he saw no solution for it in the near future.

Newton wasn't aware he was trembling until he ran a severely shaking hand through his hair. He fell against the wall and sank down to sit onto the floor.

tbc...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the novel adaptation and the art book state that Hermann is married to Vanessa and expecting a child. I never read the novel. I haven't laid a finger on the art book (sold out, darnit!), and I'm generally following the movie plot and information given therein. So no wife, no baby.


	6. Chapter 6

“It’s the hive.”

Newton looked up, glasses balancing on the tip of his nose, a string of neutralized intestinal fluid clinging to his fingers.

“What’s the hive?”

“Us. The Ghosts.” Hermann regarded him with sharp eyes, pinning him down. His face was his usual, slightly misgiving mask. “What is still happening.”

What is still happening…

A shaky breath rattled his lungs. Fear leaped through him. There hadn’t been Kaiju memories for so long, but now they came unbidden, that sensation of the only one of his kind and separate from the hive.

Newton stared at the pieces in front of him, then straightened. He tore off the gloves and tossed them into the waste basket. One landed on the floor.

“Good god,” Hermann muttered.

“We’re not part of a hive, Hermann,” he stated, maybe a bit more loudly than necessary. “We’re us. And this… this is going to fade.”

“What if it doesn’t, Dr. Geiszler?”

“It already has,” he lied and pushed the glasses up his nose.

“Liar.”

Direct. As always. Never one dancing around an argument, Hermann simply charged head-first into the situation. Convinced he was right, knowing his math was correct, that nothing could invalidate the formulas, he would bore down on whoever dared to say so.

Or think so.

Or lie blatantly into his face about what clearly wasn’t happening.

Newton had no comeback for it.

It was a lie. It hadn’t faded. Only the Kaiju was mostly gone. It was there, underneath everything, but no longer prominently in his mind. It reared its head when the fear came, like right now, but it wasn’t searing through his too human mind, tearing it apart.

Newton fought the terror, the realization that Gottlieb had probably finally reached the point where he had enough. Where he wanted to sleep alone and not have a clingy colleague taking up bed space.

Tolerance of such childish behavior only went so far.

There was a limit, right?

Because all of this was solely Newton Geiszler. He was the brain-damaged one who didn’t get his act together. He was the one who had paid the price and was leeching off a colleague. The colleague who had voluntarily entered the Drift with him, seeing it as their only chance to save the world.

Now he wanted to work in peace.

Newton felt a hysteric laugh bubble up inside of him, chased by memories not his own. Human memories.

Deep within them, now bursting to the surface was Hermann Gottlieb’s life, was the conflict of a young child. The need to be alone and work and be the greatest mathematician to have ever lived. To feel the numbers, their cold logic, the infallibility. No emotions required. Even heated discussions among colleagues were less of an emotional matter for Hermann, who always knew he was right, than one would think.

And there was also the boy who had cried in the dark, who wanted to play with toys, with model airplanes; who had wanted to become the greatest pilot that had ever lived. Hermann had been the boy who had built a hundred and one different models, had painstakingly painted them to perfection, but he had never been praised for his dedication. It had never dampened his spirit to be a pilot, to do everything to become one, until the fateful day he had been told he didn’t meet the requirements, even at the early age of ten.

He was the boy who had failed at something that had been his one, feverish hope and dream. He was the boy who resorted to his one and only defense: numbers.

They never failed.

Unlike his own, frail body. His eyes.

That boy had never known this closeness, warmth, laughter, fun. He hadn’t had artist parents who had taught him music. An uncle who had introduced him to the wonderful world of electronics. Who had bought him mangas and watched all kinds of monster movies with him.

Newton didn’t mind the new edge of crazy to his already crazy, messy world.

Hermann… Hermann liked order and logic.

“It’s fading,” he repeated despondently, shoving it all away with an almost harsh thought.

Gottlieb just looked strangely disappointed at the repeated lie, then turned back to whatever he was doing.

What did he expect? What did he want? An acknowledgment that Newton Geiszler was a total mess, a freak show on legs, that he couldn’t disentangle himself from the Drift?

No, he wouldn’t give that to him. Newton wasn’t a coward, but he also didn’t want to lose this.

He felt a tremor deep within his soul.

He didn’t want to be alone.

He couldn’t.

He had this instinctual need for the warmth Herman represented, his safety.

But maybe it was time to be independent.

Newton sighed. "Pathetic," he muttered.

 

 

That night he fought the pull. He didn’t have to be with Hermann. He didn’t have to have another body with him, a warmth that was real, not just a fleeting image in his mind. He didn’t need to feel the calming caresses, the intermingling of their heartbeats.

Being one.

Not alone.

Because he had felt the pain, the isolation, from Hermann. He had been there, had been that child, pushed to be the greatest, the brightest. Who had thrown himself into the only field he could and had already succeeded in. Abstract mathematics came so easily to him, engineering and science studies were merely a hobby for him. He had sailed through the Technical University in Berlin, had completed courses in mere weeks than months.

Wunderkind.

Newton knew the pressure, knew the genius mind. He was the same, but he had channeled it differently. Loud music, rockstar ambitions in a field that didn’t look kindly upon such eccentrics, even though they were used to them.

He was louder, more obnoxious, not the closet genius.

He was an artist.

He painted his body.

He didn’t want to be meek and gray and invisible. He rocked the world!

And he had Drifted with his polar opposite and found the results more calming than he would have thought. The Kaiju side was mingling again. Hermann was the stronger echo, was the human memory, and he wanted him around.

Not tonight.

He could make it.

He wasn’t needy or dependent, didn’t need to crawl into Hermann’s bed like a child afraid of the thunderstorm.

It tore into his mind, this loneliness, and he groaned softly as sleep didn’t come.

He had to wean himself off this dependency. Human brains were not hive minds.

And they weren’t pack animals. Not like wolves. Or flocks. Like geese.

The Drift had rewired something deep inside, but it hadn’t completed the mess it had made. It had left some things in ruins, like the incomplete feeling Newton had. It was a feeling that translated into a need for human company, for touch, instead of leaning on another mind, feel the safety net the Kaijus had had.

What a shit way to become a pioneer in this field, he thought weakly.

Humans could live and work and be alone. They could sleep alone.

Newton felt his breath catch in his throat.

Alone.

It was an almost physical sensation of nausea. It was the strong pull of his mind and soul to seek out the other half, the calming, cool presence that would make everything better.

No!

He almost cried out his denial.

No, no, no!

He buried his head in his hands, trying to calm himself. He pressed the balls of his palms into his eyes, feeling them treacherously slicken with tears he was fighting so hard to keep inside. It were tears of frustration, of fatigue, of stress.

His door banged open and Newton was startled.

Hermann was leaning on his cane, glaring balefully at him. Newton knew he was a sorry sight. Pale as a sheet, almost green around the edges, his breathing came in short, painful gasps. It sounded like the desperate attempt not to throw up in Newton’s own ears. One palm was pressed hard against his forehead.

“What are you trying to prove, Geiszler?” he demanded.

“W-what?” he stuttered, swallowing reflexively, wishing he could get his emotions under control.

“I asked what you are trying to prove. And to whom.”

“Go to sleep, Hermann. It’s way too late,” he groaned dismissively.

At least he tried to make it dismissive. Right now his whole body seemed to tremble with trying to get closer to the other man. He clenched his hands into fists, nails biting into his skin. Just Hermann’s presence in his room had started to make everything so much more bearable. His closeness alleviated the pain, chased away the nausea.

No, no and another no!

He wasn’t doing this anymore! He wasn’t going to give in to an instinct that should have evaporated within just a few hours, a maximum of days, after the neural bridge had been disconnected.

Instead it had grown stronger. Instead he had gotten used to it. Dependent on it.

Gottlieb huffed and limped over. “You are such a child,” he chastised. “For all your endless blabbering, you never listen. You actually refuse to listen to anything but your own voice.”

He stared at the other man as if he was an apparition, brought forth by his chaotically firing neurons.

“You have six doctorates, man. Use them! You built that atrocity of a Drift mechanism. You used it on yourself against common sense, which, I confess, you never possessed to begin with.”

Yeah, that sounded like the Hermann Gottlieb he loved to snark with.

“You know the results. Yet you fail to interpret the data correctly, let alone analyze it in a scientific manner.”

Newton blinked as his lab partner sat down and placed the cane neatly next to the bed.

“Excuse me?” he managed.

He still felt terrible. His head was pounding, his shoulders were tightly knotted, his stomach was a cold pit, and all of him hurt. Deeply. His very mind and soul felt raw, like someone had raked claws over it. He was vulnerable and open and, much to his again rising distress, almost fragile.

He fought that notion.

He didn’t want this to continue, to take something from his colleague that Hermann shouldn’t be forced to give.

Hermann regarded him steadily. “We shared a hive mind, Dr. Geiszler. We shared each other’s mind. We Drifted and we keep Ghost-Drifting. I refuse to compare the experience to anything a Jaeger pilot would. But we had a Kaiju within that neural bridge and that handshake was anything but conventional. Of course the outcome wouldn’t be conventional either.”

Newton knew he was still staring bug-eyed at Hermann; he couldn’t help himself.

“Haven’t the past weeks proven just how unconventional this was and still is?” Gottlieb asked, sounding a little provocative.

“You hate unconventional,” Newt finally blurted. It was the only thing that came to mind.

“Dear god,” was the sigh. “You have been in my bed every night since the closure of the Breach. I have felt you with me every single day.”

And that sounded so… so… not like what it really was. If anyone heard them, gossip would fly.

No, wait. What? He what? Newton’s mind flailed, trying to catch his millions of wayward thoughts.

“You have?” he finally squeaked.

“Drifting is a two-way road,” Hermann lectured, voice sounding a little rough. “Residue was to be expected. Ghost-Drifts are a given fact. Now, we didn’t go about this experiment in a controlled way, as I would have preferred. I give you that we didn’t have time, that it was a matter of life and death. We made the best out of it and we survived.”

He gave Newton a pointed look. Newton knew he was doing a very bad goldfish impression, mouth opening and closing.

“So of course I feel you. Only an idiot would think it concerns only one side.”

“You never said anything!” Okay, now that sounded very accusatory.

“Did I have to?”

The sharp words startled him. Of course he didn’t have to say anything. His actions had been… very clear. Newton had just never thought that Hermann might just feel as intensely as he did.

It had been Newton who had Drifted with a Kaiju twice.

It had been Newton who had nearly fried his brain that very first time.

It had been Newton suffering from burst blood vessels and the pressure headache of the hive coming down on him.

It had been Newton getting chased by a category-4 that had sniffed and nearly licked him.

“Do I have to spell it out for you, Dr. Geiszler?”

“Uh, no. Yes. Maybe? I thought… I mean, I know we Drifted… and it was a Drift, despite the whole mess-up, and the really analog way of doing it, and the Kaiju baby to boot. But… You didn’t say anything! You complain about everything to everyone! You never hold back, Hermann! I thought you’d be breathing down my neck about unwanted Ghosts! So I thought it was just me, because I did it twice. That my brain was messed up.”

“Like that is new information,” came the comment. “Your mind is a chaotic, unorganized place to share.”

“Which you hate.”

“It was an acceptable risk at the time that I had to look into that mess, be in that mess, and I accepted it because the end of the world was not acceptable. I was amazed to learn that beneath that chaos is an intellect that I find… interesting and appealing.”

 

_You like me!_

_Yes._

_You_ like _me!_

_I think we established that._

 

Hermann met his startled expression, then a rare smile graced his features. It changed him. It changed everything.

“You think I’m cute?” he breathed, whisper-soft.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Gottlieb replied with a disdain that was missing all the heat and conviction.

 

_You do. And I think you’re adorable._

 

Newton was surprised to see that their fingers had slipped together, their hands now interlaced, and it was like a solid anchor for him.

Oh, and Hermann hadn’t had a haircut in weeks. It had grown out. There was no longer this weird kind of buzz cut around his temples and the whatever-it-was-cut on the top of his head. Newton took note of that in a surreal kind of way.

As if it was important.

Maybe it was.

He liked him; had for more than a few weeks. More than just being here, in Hong Kong, together. Even before Anchorage.

Newton looked at everything but Hermann, but he finally had to meet the other man’s neutral expression.

“You… handle this a lot better than I expected. I mean, invasion of privacy and all. Me in your head…”

“I believe you are taking the brunt of the flashes.” Hermann frowned a little at him. “Your brain seems to be very… receptive to this kind of invasion. I see the memories and I can remember everything, like you do, but I do not live through it every single time. My emotional response is rather weak, faint. Everything goes straight through your brain.”

Newton chewed on his lower lip. “You are... aware of it.”

Hermann’s fingers curled a little more tightly into his, squeezing his hand. It was reassuring.

“It’s hard not to notice and know. We were connected, Newton. We still are. The results are always the same, no matter your coping method. I have to give you points for creativity, Dr. Geiszler, but by now even you should have understood that no matter what you do, you cannot change the results.”

That he had to be with Hermann, had to feel the calming touch as more than an imaginary brush against his hyper-active brain.

“I’m sorry about this whole Siamese Twin thing,” he blurted.

Hermann turned his head and studied him like he would a complex mathematical puzzle. “Are you actually responsible for it?”

“I was the one with the crazy idea to Drift with a Kaiju brain.”

“And it was my decision to do this with you. No coercion. I am an adult, Dr. Geiszler. The jury is still out on you, though.”

There it was. The bite. That wonderful snark. Something inside Newton unraveled. Not in a bad way. It was more like a bright spark of hope and want. It was a warmth he cherished, he wasn’t even really aware of anymore – unless it wasn’t there.

Hermann laid back onto the mattress. He was still holding on to Newton’s hand and now tugged gently. When Geiszler hesitated, he raised his eyebrows pointedly, and Newton couldn’t fight the pull. He sighed in pleasure at the sensation of another warm body close to him, of the arms holding him. Everything seemed to slide into place. The tension drained from his body, from his mind, and the raw feeling made way for calm acceptance.

Again the fingers played over his tattooed skin, mapping it.

Closeness. Warmth. Protection. Safety. So much warmth.

His own fingers buried in the flannel, holding on tightly, as if Hermann would just up and leave again. Even if his logical mind told him that he wouldn’t, the instinctual side would have none of that.

“How do you handle it?” Newton asked softly, fighting back tears of relief. “These surges from me? How do you do it?”

“I’m ashamed to confess that it is instinct. I don’t think about it. It happens.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

Then, “You don’t have these nightmares?”

“Like I said already,” oh, Hermann sounded a little prissy again, “I remember what happened, but the surges only occur in your brain.”

“Because your brain is such a neat little place to live, organized drawers and shelves, nothing out of place?”

The blunt nails scratched a little over his skin, careful not to go over the new tattoo, just in case it would hurt Newton.

“Apparently an orderly, controlled mind is better able to take the pressure,” was the aloof remark.

 

_Comfort in numbers. Math. Clean cut, no emotions, just strings of numbers. No let downs. No disappointment. Challenges, yes. But never a disappointment._

 

Newton had to smile at that flash of almost-thought, nearly-Ghost, something-of-a-flash. Hermann loved his numbers. He found them comforting, relaxing, clean-cut and uncomplicated. There were never any expectations, just cool logic.

 

_Left hemisphere. Right hemisphere. Never so true. Drift partners. No room for the Kaiju._

 

“Huh. Good for you. Good for me, actually, that you were my Drift partner. Could have lost my mind already without you, Herm.”

It got him a huff.

“No, really. I know it’s you keeping me sane, functional…”

The fingers tugged gently at his hair, silencing him.

Yes, maybe. Newton’s was a messy chaos and the Kaiju parts had wormed their way into every nook and cranny. He had felt the comfort of control, the coolness that was balm on the fiery explosion everywhere in his head.

Hermann Gottlieb was the control to Newton Geiszler’s creative chaos. He always had been. Maybe since the first day they had met. It was what had made them so good together, what had kept them such an amazing tag team of scientists.

“Really, Geiszler? Sports metaphors?”

“You caught that, hm?”

“It was hard to miss. We are the first humans to Drift with a Kaiju,” Gottlieb said, voice soft and thoughtful, almost gentle. “Side-effects were to be expected. Like this. We have formed a connection, Newton. One that requires an adjustment here or there.”

He huffed a little laugh, listening to Hermann’s own. Adjustment! This wasn’t an adjustment!

The caresses were on-going. They had lifted the pain from him, had lulled Newton into a state of complete relaxation. It was almost… just almost… sensual.

Newton closed his eyes, breathing softly.

“This might not get any better.”

“What is your definition of better, pray tell?”

He bit his lower lip. “We might never be… separate.”

“You said you know me.”

“Uh, yes?”

Hermann was silent. Finally Newton pushed himself up, gazing into the dark eyes. The caressing fingers fell away and he missed the skin-to-skin contact

“You… don’t mind…” he said slowly. “Not being alone… even if it’s me?” The last was half a question.

“Especially you,” was the very honest, open reply.

 

_Don’t you know? Haven’t you seen?_

_I have. I just… never dared to hope._

 

“You are an extraordinary man and my on-going project, Dr. Geiszler. I am very close to finally getting you housebroken.”

Newton knew he was grinning like a maniac and he buried his face in those silly, idiotic, warm, fluffy, clean smelling pajamas. Seriously, who changed their sleep wear every other day?

“Extraordinary?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

Long fingers buried in his tousled hair, pulling gently, combing through the strands.

Warmth. Happiness. The connection between them, meaning… meaning life… meaning companionship… meaning… meaning… no loneliness.

It was breath-taking. Simple and yet so complicated.

It was right.

Damn his rewired brain, the damage he had done to himself, to Hermann…

He stopped all of a sudden, tensing up, his mind freezing. Then the presence was there again, wrapping itself around his guilt, reassuring him.

“Newt, stop it,” was the soft order.

“Now I know you have brain damage, _Herm_. You called me Newt.”

He had his arm flung over the slender waist, the brightly colored tattoos standing out against the dully white material of Hermann’s preferred sleep wear.

Pale fingers stroked over the new artwork on his neck. Careful. Explorative. Calm. His control. His counter-balance.

Things could be so much worse than Newton seeking physical touch to quiet down the Kaiju hive memories. Sharing this with the man he had shared so much of his life with already wasn’t really a hardship.

“You should get one,” Newton mumbled into the pajama top. “Tattoo.”

“No.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing till you tried.”

“I like my skin as it is.”

“Liar,” he sing-songed.

“Un-inked,” Hermann added.

“No idea what you’re missing,” Newt repeated.

“No.”

“Just a little baby Kaiju.”

“No.”

“Spoilsport,” he sighed, enjoying the caress.

Maybe humans were pack animals. Humans who had Drifted with Kaijus. Oh, that should be a movie. Drifting With Kaijus! Wouldn’t that be a success?

“No,” came Hermann’s voice, interrupting his thoughts.

Mind-reader. He almost laughed.

“Of course I can hear you, Newton.”

“You never said anything.”

“I shouldn’t have had to.”

Too true.

“A real scientist would have used an analytical method.”

“Textbook,” Newton muttered. “How boring.”

“How did you ever get six doctorates?” Hermann sighed.

Their free hands interlaced fingers, holding on gently to the other.

“The first one was easy. The last a freebie,” he quipped. “You know. Buy five, get one free?”

Dry lips pressed against his head. He smiled.

It was how he fell asleep. Lighter than before, warm and so relaxed.

 

tbc...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did tag it as Slow Build, right? :) Glaaaaacially slow, but getting closer.


	7. Chapter 7

The fact that Hercules Hansen had become the new Marshall of the Hong Kong Shatterdome had changed little in his general appearance and behavior. He didn’t wear a uniform and he wouldn’t be caught dead in a suit and tie. His scruff was a little less, his face had lost the haggard look of stress, too little sleep, and fear for the whole planet’s fate. With the survival and healing of his only son, Herc was healing, too.

He and Chuck might never be a model family, and they might fling insults at one another, but they were tight. Newt had seen it in the past weeks and he sometimes wondered how much had been the near-death, how much had been Chuck’s Drift with Pentecost, how much had been Raleigh’s involvement with the younger Hansen.

Involvement in so many, many ways.

“Gentlemen.”

Herc gave the two men a brief, welcoming smile as both walked into the office. It had been Pentecost’s, but all personal belongings had been handed over to Mako, his heir and family. Right now it looked rather barren, with barely anything personal from Herc, and Newton thought it had the feeling of an interim office.

Newton almost rolled his eyes when Hermann simply took a seat, scowling at the Marshall as if he had interrupted a very important experiment.

“Marshall,” he said in a clipped tone.

“Hermann, be nice to the man. You’re talking to another human being.”

The scowl deepened.

“What can we do for you, Marshall Hansen?”

Herc’s gaze roamed between the two of them. His hands were folded on the table and there was a cunning slant to his sharp eyes.

“You could tell me what’s going on. Between the two of you.”

Newton knew he was staring bug-eyed at the older man, that Hermann had that closed-off expression in his face that told someone more than he probably wanted, and Herc… the bastard was smiling.

“Going on?” Newt finally managed.

“There is a report,” Hermann said briskly. “It has detailed notes from me about the Drift experience, what knowledge we gained, what steps we took.”

“How you saved our asses. I know. I read the report. But things linger, right?”

Newton fidgeted.

“I might just be a Jaeger jockey, but I know a Ghost-Drift when I see it. And I’ve seen the version Q and Bond have. That’s more than just Ghosts and they already confirmed it. Now you two, you were in the Drift with a Kaiju, who, according to yourself, Dr. Geiszler, have a hive mentality. So you Drifted with all of them.”

He raised a quizzical eyebrow. Newton nodded mutely, hands now clenched into fists. Out of the corner of his eyes he caught the aborted movement of Hermann trying to reach out for him. Any other time it would have touched him; now he was almost terrified

The Marshall leaned back. “Something happens to our brains when we Drift. God knows I’ve been in too many to count and I know it. Didn’t make me a better father, just a better target. And something of an expert from the other side of the science involved.”

Whoa, that was personal.

“Care to explain what your brain damage is?”

Newton didn’t really have to look at Hermann to see the tension there. His friend was fighting through shock and resignation. They had known it would get out. They wouldn’t be able to hide this. The question was, how to get it across, make anyone who wasn’t them understand this whole complicated mess.

“It’s complicated,” Newton finally said, stalling for time.

“Uncomplicate it for the jock, Doc.”

He gave the Marshall a brief smile. Hermann’s presence seemed to increase, calm his mind, straighten out his thoughts.

“I’m not sure how,” he started.

“Apparently, in his need to prove his rash and hare-brained theory about Drifting with a Kaiju – twice! – Dr. Geiszler connected our brains in a rather… permanent manner,” Hermann spoke up instead.

Herc’s brows rose a little. “Permanent?”

“It wasn’t hare-brained!” Newton immediately protested. “It had worked the first time and it gave us the information we needed! And Pentecost gave me a green light to acquire a Kaiju brain!”

“On the black market!”

“Where else would you find one?”

“Permanent, doctors?” Herc asked again, voice sharper, interrupting their argument.

“Uh, kinda,” Newton replied. “You see, it was Ghost-Drifting at first. Nothing major.”

Hermann snorted.

“And it didn’t really become less, so I talked to Q. He and James have this amazing connection already.”

“I know that, Doc. I want to know about you two.”

“It’s not like with them. It’s more… intense. At least for me. It’s all me, you see. The feedback, backwash, overflow, whatever…” Newton stopped, feeling a little helpless for the first time in his life, to put something so simple and wanted into words.

“From my observations over the past weeks,” Hermann spoke up evenly, “our brains have truly been damaged, but in a way that doesn’t result in neural dysfunction. I observed no cognitive loss or memory holes. It seems that Dr. Geiszler’s neural bridge, which wasn’t PPDC approved and far from sophisticated, rearranged neural links in our brains to make them compatible with the Kaiju brain. That process had already been started in Dr. Geiszler because of first Kaiju Drift, and my involvement in the end added a sort of buffering system to the new set-up. It only furthers my conclusion that we only survived the neural load because of those new neural pathways.”

Herc frowned a little. “New how?” he finally asked.

“Ah, we… we keep drifting toward each other. No pun intended,” Newton said slowly. “For…uh… comfort? Well, at least at night and for me? It’s a crazy mess in there.” He made a gesture at his head. “I keep getting these flashes from the hive and emotions and instincts. Because I’m not a Kaiju and humans don’t really need hive minds to survive, the human brain can’t… process it all, so it seeks another form of touch. It’s… overwhelming and hard to sort through. It’s also amazing and a whole new world to explore and understand and…” He broke off, shrugging.

“And it is a nightmare to remember,” Hermann said in his stead.

Hansen’s eyes were sharp. The man was sharp. He might not be a scientist, but he understood more than he let on and Newton had always been wary of that type of person. This man had been with the Jaeger program from the start. He had Drifted countless times. He understood a whole lot more than Newton currently really wanted him to.

“It’s different for the two of you,” he finally stated, as if that had just come to him. “You experience the after-effects differently.”

Newton bit his lower lip. “Yeah.”

Hermann, sitting ramrod straight, clenched his fingers around the handle of his cane.

“A hive mind would connect your brain to… Kaijus?”

“Probably.”

“But since the Breach is closed, the Kaijus are dead, and your brain is very much human and not Kaiju compatible,” Herc went on, summarizing, “you compensate differently.”

He nodded.

“How?”

“Newton glanced at Gottlieb and fought down his embarrassment. “I seek out Dr. Gottlieb.”

Herc was silent, waiting.

“At night,” he rushed out. “I can’t sleep alone. It’s touch. Touch only!”

“Doc, I don’t care what you two do with each other or with anyone here, as long as it’s consensual.”

Newton groaned. “It’s not like that!”

Hermann’s look of indignation was almost comical.

“Dr. Geiszler experiences episodes of a need for physical touch that goes beyond a handshake or a brief clap on the shoulder,” Hermann said stiffly. “We have discovered that prolonged exposure is the most calming for his mind.”

“Your touch.”

“Yes.”

“No substitutes?”

“No. I was the one who Drifted with him. Dr. Geiszler was the initiator twice,” he said, voice a little harder than usual. “He Drifted alone, then he took me along the second time. I believe his brain imprinted on mine.”

“Hermann’s the buffer,” Newton added quickly. “Yes, we shared the neural load, but it was the second time for me and the second time the hive was… me. Well, they touched a human brain. The second time Hermann’s mind was there, too, and he took some of that, and he… still does,” he added quietly. “He buffers. Apparently he can handle that a lot better than me.”

The dark eyes finally glanced at him and there was a rare twitch at the corners of Hermann’s mouth. Then it was gone. Almost like it had never been there.

“Dr. Geiszler’s brain is a more uncontrolled, untamed, uncivilized world, so suffered the brunt of it all. That’s why he has this need to be with someone. Without the Drift mechanism, the neural bridge, he can’t actively share, so he needs physical contact. It will get better over time.”

Liar. Liarliarliar!

It wouldn’t get better. Both knew that. The physical contact was craved and wanted and it was only getting more and more… intimate.

“My brain is not uncivilized,” Newton grumbled, pushing everything else aside.

Hermann’s touch was in his mind only. It was a caress, never an apology, but somehow it felt like the Gottlieb version of one. It was reassurance and more. It was closeness that Newton needed, that his… uncivilized, messy, wreck of a brain needed.

 

_Like a parasite._

_No. Symbiosis._

 

Newton looked at his partner, stunned by the warmth in those almost-words that sometimes floated between them.

“Any other side-effects I should take into account?” the Marshall asked, drawing him back out of the moment of reassurance that his brain was rather okay. For a Geiszler brain at least. “Blood where there shouldn’t be? Hallucinations?”

“No! No, we’re fine. Physically we’re really good,” Newton quickly told him. “It’s just the lingering neural bridge thingy.”

“Thingy? Oh please,” Hermann muttered under his breath.

“I know the grapevine is ripe with speculation…”

“Don’t give a flying fuck, guys. Everyone knows how close Drift pilots get. Some closer than others. Some more intimate.” He shrugged, a little smirk on his lips. “You two Drifted with a Kaiju brain. I think there’s a lot of leeway there right in that fact. Why do you think I moved you into those particular quarters?”

“Uh.”

“Right.” Herc grinned, then grew serious again. “I want a full report on that. On your connection. I’m not going to send an armada of doctors after you, but I want to know what my two lead researchers have gotten themselves into. You’re not piloting a Jaeger and never will, but if this becomes a security issue…”

“It won’t!” Newton said vehemently. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just… like Hermann said, my side of that Drift is a little haywire right now.”

He felt Hermann’s disbelief like a giant wave. _A little?_

“But I got my medication right here,” Newton went on, unperturbed, gesturing at his colleague. “Hermann makes it better.”

“Well, I hope so. You really are my chief scientists and I meant it when I said I’m glad you’re staying on, despite what the science world has already offered you.”

“Researcher, down to my devious little soul,” Newton declared, smiling widely.

Hermann looked pained, but the conviction was missing. Newton knew Gottlieb didn’t want to be anywhere else. He was right at the source.

 

_I’m with you._

 

Newton’s brain stalled for a moment. He glanced at his lab partner, clearly at a loss for words.

 

_Me?_

_Of course, you idiot._

 

“Which is why the PPDC and the United Nations okayed Jaeger deployment to the closed Breach location for further scientific study,” Herc went on, though from his expression he was aware that something was going on. Bless him, he didn’t ask. “We’ll be hauling whatever we find, whatever’s not of this dimension, whatever looks even remotely interesting, to the surface.”

Newton knew he was gaping. Dream. Come. True!

“Can I go with?!” he breathed.

Hermann shot him a look like he had lost his marbles. Then again, he probably had. And he had acquired a whole new set of shiny new ones, which weren’t in sync just yet.

“Are you serious?” he exclaimed.

“Are you seriously not wanting to go?” Newton shot back.

“Yes, very much so.”

“But I do! When are the first ones going down? Will there be a deep sea lab? Where do we store the specimens?”

Herc laughed, holding up his hands as if to ward off the flood of words and demands.

“Whoa, doc, slow down. First one will be a reconnaissance team. We have to establish safety procedures. Then we’ll hack out a plan how to handle the whole thing. With your assistance, consultation and input, of course.”

Newton knew he looked like a kid in the candy store.

“When?” he asked, sounding breathless.

“Skyfall Prime is scheduled for a first test run in two days. Everything else we’ll take from there. Epic North has been given clearance for trial runs, so she’ll be accompanying Skyfall on that mission.”

Newton really, really, really wanted to be there, too.

Herc smiled. “Take a deep breath, Newt. We’ll get you down there in a Jaeger, but not before we make sure it’s safe.”

“Sure, sure, safety is good! But I’m first in line, on top of that list, the number one to go down there as a K-science researcher!”

“Of course you are,” Herc laughed. “Now get out of here. And remember: I want those reports.”

“You’ll get them! I promise. Hermann, let’s go!”

 

 

“That is amazing! Cool! Out of this world!” Newton knew he was bouncing around Hermann like a hyper-active flummy.

“Thirty thousand feet under the surface is not fun,” was Hermann’s sharp answer. “It’s reckless.”

“My second name!”

“Yes, I’m very much aware of that.”

“Do you know what this means, Herm? You’ll get whatever data they collect down there, about the Breach, the Throat, the Anteverse! We’re right at the source and we’ll be the first to sift through it. Generations will know our names!”

“As the idiots who Drifted with a Kaiju.”

“To save the world!” Newton pumped a fist into the air, eyes alight. “Man, I want to be down there, see it all for myself.”

“It’s nothing but rocks and water and darkness, Geiszler. The Breach is closed.”

Newton ignored him, happily going over everything in his head, feeling neurons fire at a hundred and ten percent capacity.

A warm hand curled slightly around his waist, guided him through the entrance of the lab before he ran into the wall because he almost didn’t see he had walked past. Hermann walked on, as if he hadn’t even been consciously doing it, limping to his computer. Newton dragged after him, smiling giddily.

Deep sea exploration! Down into the dark oceans where Kaijus had fought Jaegers! Yes, yes, and another yes to all of that. He wanted to be there and he would!

The was a little tug, then a gentle caress, jolting him out of his daydream. Dark eyes were watching him, assessing him, giving him a once over that was far more than physical.

Newton simply shot his partner a grin, then went to his own work space. He would start a list as to what he needed from down there, where the Jaegers should scan, what to look for.

They fell into an easy rhythm. Hermann limped over after a while, glancing at Newton’s scribbles, pulled a face, then started to berate him on failing to approach the expedition from a detached, analytical point of view.

It was how Hermann started to get involved, too.

He was the resident Anteverse K-scientist after all.

tbc...


	8. Chapter 8

They became more tactile.

That dry little kiss had sparked something in Newton, had challenged him. He felt closer to the other man than ever before, the connection between them strengthening. The hands on his skin sparked new sensations, quieted his mind and calmed his nerves, but there was still excitement.

He was aware that some little fizzes spilled over to Hermann, had the hum between them increase, but he was reluctant to push it.

It wasn’t getting any less, though.

It never would.

The Kaiju memories were now a firm part of both their lives, incorporated in his brain, and so were their shared memories. The emotions had… evolved. 

Nothing else changed much in their daily lives. Skyfall Prime was back in operating condition. Epic North was close to finished. Raleigh and Chuck had been teamed up and would soon have their first full Drop.

Newton was excitedly spending a lot of time around the Jaeger bay, in briefings, with the pilots, getting to know them so much better than he had in the past years, actually. These were the people who would go down to the closed Breach soon, who would gather data for him and Hermann to happily drool over.

Well, not so much drool but look at indifferently while secretly excited, in Hermann’s case.

Q and Bond he was already familiar with. Very much, actually. He had scanned their brains, taken notes about their growing closeness, and he had compared it to what he and Hermann shared.

It was not the same, but similar. Not as intense, just more… intimate.

No. No, he and Hermann were intimate. In a different way.

Sensations made it across, snippets of thoughts, emotions. Mainly emotions that somehow translated into words.

With James and Q it was a more equal exchange. And neither was solely there as the buffer of the other partner. Hermann was his buffer, his control, and he was doing a fantastic job. Newton wouldn’t have a clue how to handle calming down another mind if the roles were reversed.

“You would,” Hermann told him one night, lips moving against Newton’s collar bone.

It was hot, okay? He had wanted to sleep without a shirt. And Hermann hadn’t complained. He had been actually quite fascinated with the inked skin that simulated a skin-tight shirt to the untrained eye.

And Newt was a glutton for sensation. Without the shirt, the effects took almost immediately.

“It’s instinctual. It’s what my brain does because it was connected to you. It reacts to you.”

Newton sighed. Okay, maybe.

“Definitely,” had been the sleepy correction. “Didn’t you listen to anything I explained?”

“I always listen to you, Herm. Always.”

“Doubtful. Now go to sleep.”

 

*

 

Raleigh and Chuck were getting better at handling each other. Chuck was still a little shit, the bully, the pain in the ass, but there was something new about the man, Newton decided while at a brief meeting. He listened more; he was calmer; he was… oh! Yeah, looking at Raleigh it became clear that this was Chuck Hansen’s calm center, the one to keep him on an even keel.

Soon both Jaegers would launch for a test run.

Newton felt like Easter and Christmas had come on the same day.

Hermann just rolled his eyes and ignored him.

 

*

 

Hong Kong hadn’t changed much in the past months. The bone slums were a hubbub of blackmarket deals and the nerve center of trading. You could buy everything at any time as long as you didn’t ask too many questions. There were always crowds. Among the hundreds of thousands of people were tiny shops, carts, tents, or just a crate and a blanket spread over it, items for sale presented on handwoven, dirty linen or expensive silk.

Newton had been there a few times in the past, the last time when he had sought out Hannibal Chau. Not everything was gangs and violence and threats. There were nice eateries, some tiny corner stores with really good lunch deals, and the occasional street vendor with not-too-questionable food items.

He was nothing if not adventures and some of the things Newton had tried hadn’t been pork or beef or rabbit or something of the like. Meat was usually rare, so it was vegetables and rice, fried, baked, steamed, or a variation thereof.

He liked it.

So after the whole apocalypse-averted events he came back to Hong Kong, browsed through the markets, sometimes pondered buying something or other. He bought a paper bag of snacks and munched on them, then sought out the corner eatery where the locals also went, and ordered the daily special.

He was halfway through when a Chinese woman, dressed in black leather, slid into the seat across from the table. Her hair was straight, black, with colored streaks on one side, though she hardly looked like Mako. Okay, and Mako was Japanese. And she didn’t look like some leather-fetish thug who hid a dozen weapons underneath that skin-tight outfit that displayed every curve.

And Newton’s brain was rambling off into a completely opposite direction again.

He blinked.

He knew the woman. Oh, right! She was one of Hannibal’s thugs. Henchmen. Uhm, henchwoman. Right…

“You garner attention, Doctor,” she said.

She didn’t even have an accent. Cool.

And out of the corner of his eyes he saw three men of questionable intention slink out of the eatery, glancing back with a look of fear.

Wait, what?

“Wait, what?” he blurted.

She leaned forward, all smooth, feline grace, deadly and mildly threatening.

“Chau isn’t the only black market dealer. You deal with him. You garner attention when you walk the bone slums.”

“I’m not the only visitor… tourist… whatever!” he protested.

“You are Dr. Newton Geiszler. You are known.”

He was what? Since when? And, more important, why?!

She smiled. “You Drifted with a Kaiju brain. Word… got around.”

Oh hell. Fuck. Shit. And damn! Damn, he was a rockstar, all right!

“So he sent you to do what? Protect me?” Newton demanded.

It sounded ridiculous.

Then she nodded and it was really ridiculous.

“What would someone get out of threatening me? Or kidnapping me?”

Okay, he was the lead scientist on Kaiju research, but he wasn’t loaded and he doubted the PPDC would pay a ransom.

“You Drifted with a Kaiju. Twice. You were hunted by one. You specifically. You survived.”

He was famous. Oh, yay… not. It wasn’t the kind of fame he wanted if it got him kidnapped or worse.

Newton noticed two more of Hannibal’s thugs, position at the front and the rear of the eatery, keeping a watchful eye on matters.

“Soooo… Hannibal’s making a statement?”

She flashed even, white teeth. There was a piercing, too. “He is. Eat up. It’s why you came here.”

Newton really didn’t feel all that hungry, but he had paid for the food and it was really good, so he stuffed the rest of the spring roll style, fried wrap into his mouth and washed it down with what he thought was the Chinese version of lemonade. Not that he really wanted to know what it was made out of.

When he left, the woman was at his side and it got him even more attention, but it also deterred a few people, turning them away.

Huh. He had never given it much thought.

And now he was under the protection of Hannibal Chau. Cool or not cool? Newton settled on cool.

 

*

 

After that revelation he spent a few more days in Hong Kong, talking Hannibal’s ear off about Kaiju parts, his research, whatever exotic things he could get from the man. Chau was mostly amused, sometimes a little exasperated, but he always came through.

In the beginning Newton had been a bit wary that he had been granted access to the secret lair of the blackmarket kingpin so easily. The bodyguards had taken one look at the scientist, then ushered him into the heart and soul of their not-so-little enterprise. It was one thing to be under the man’s protection, another to now walk into Kaiju Remedies and not encounter any trouble.

The woman, whose name he didn’t even know, gave him a feral smile. Well, maybe she thought it was nice and welcoming, but to Newton it was really predatory.

Hannibal had smiled widely, with less I-can-rip-your-throat-out-with-my-little-toe to it, spread his arms, and welcomed him.

It had been overwhelming. And eerie. And slightly tickling. Okay, more than slightly. He had been smug for a week after.

He, Dr. Newton Geiszler, was pals with the largest black market Kaiju parts supplier this side of the Pacific. It helped that Herc illegally honored the deal Chau had had with Pentecost.

Newton had almost free choice of whatever he wanted.

“No brains,” Hannibal had remarked, smirking.

“What? Why?”

Even with the dark glasses, the look had been tell-tale.

“I’m not going to Drift with one again!”

“I’m not a man to listen to any orders, but Hansen and I agree: no brains.”

Newton had muttered about that for the rest of the day, including the flight home. He never spent the night in the city, afraid of what might happen.

 

 

So they started to train that.

 

 

The first few times were a disaster.

 

 

Newton could feel exhaustion crawling over him; his mind was a fuzzy mess, feeling like it would ooze out of his ears any minute now. He had slept, but not really.

 

 

He was close to a nervous breakdown and Hermann had been seriously thinking about giving him a sedative.

“I can do this!”

“You clearly cannot.”

And with that Herman had refused to leave the room; a room he had quite vocally refused to sleep in ever since they had moved into the connected apartments. Now he lay on the bed with the mismatched colors, the atrocious excuse for an afghan – yes, his words – and Newton was coming down from the adrenaline rush.

Soft lips kissed his temple, his cheek, whispered soothing words.

The voice balm on his senses, and he felt a gentle touch on his head. Fingers carded through his tousled hair, petting him, calming him. Newt grabbed for one of those hands, holding on tightly to the wrist, panting with the effort to push the surging instincts -- Kaiju, only Kaiju fear of loneliness -- away. His whole being trembled and he felt tears in his eyes.

What a shitty way to start their training.

 

 

But they continued. Despite everything.

There might even have been another nervous breakdown involved that had him in tears. It had definitely been ripe with embarrassment.

But they were getting there.

Slowly.

Because Newton didn’t want to be such a burden, such a risk, such a weakness. He wanted to give Hermann an out, time away, and he wanted to be ready himself when, not if, when!, he went down to the bottom of the ocean in a Jaeger.

 

*

 

It took them almost a month until Newton was able to sleep through the night without physical contact.

Hermann called it a success.

Newton called it torture.

 

*

 

And then Hermann was asked to fly to London, present his findings on the Breach, the Throat, the Anteverse. He was the foremost expert and no, it couldn’t be done via a video conference.

Newton didn’t say a thing.

“You can do it, Newt,” Hermann said softly, cupping one unshaven cheek, holding the green eyes firmly.

“Yeah. I can.”

Conviction this was not. And he really wasn’t convinced. He was terrified.

The thin lips brushed his, the kiss almost chaste.

And then Hermann was gone, off to Hong Kong to catch a flight to London.

 

 

Newton simply holed up in his, their, lab and buried himself in Kaiju muscle tissue. He talked to the minions if he had to, but otherwise he wasn’t all that communicative for the first twelve hours.

 

 

He slept rather well that first night.

 

*

 

Newt walked tiredly toward the mess hall, nodding at people he met in the corridors, without even realizing who they were. He knew their faces, but names evaded him. As he entered the mess hall, the hum of the conversation washed over him, making him dizzy. He was on automatic as he ordered a coffee, additionally a soda, and then got himself a sandwich.

Turning, he discovered that a lot of seats were taken and somehow he knew that if he sat down, he might just not get up again. And he would very likely end up face first in his sandwich.

"You look like something the cat dragged in... after it died out in the rain."

Newton turned and discovered Herc no more than three steps behind him. The Marshall let his eyes rake over his head of Kaiju research.

"Why thank you, Marshall, that's just what I needed," Newton muttered, grimacing.

Herc chuckled. "I won't hedge any bets as to how much you actually slept. I'd lose." He inspected the food and drink. "You aren't planning on having coffee, now are you?"

"What's wrong with coffee?"

"In your condition? Just about everything." Herc shook his head. "Water would be better. You need to sleep."

Newton closed his aching eyes, sighing. "I didn't feel tired until I came here."

“Then go to your quarters and sleep, Newton. That’s an order.”

“I’m not one of your pilots,” he grumbled.

“No, just one of the lead scientists in my research division. Go to bed. Now.”

“Yessir,” he muttered.

“Good boy.”

Newton shot the departing back a glare, but it was probably more like a mutinous pout.

Okay, his quarters. He had had his meals there before and it wasn't all that far.

Newton had no recollection of getting there at all. Suddenly there were the doors and there was his bed, his desk, everything. He placed the food and drink on the table and scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes.

Food, his overtaxed brain informed him. Food, bed.

 

 

That second night was filled with a little more tossing and turning.

 

*

 

The third had Newton get up and return to the lab, startling one of his minions who was keeping an eye on a long-term experiment.

Q was suddenly there, a quiet, calm presence that helped a little, but he wasn’t Hermann.

They talked, about the connections they had to their Drift partners. About likenesses and differences. Newton was excited to share his notes and Q was very willing to spend five hours going over details.

“You’re lucky,” Newton muttered over his brain scan.

“In what way?” Q asked.

“You can lead a normal life. You can manage away from your partner. Me? Not so much.”

“Newton, this is still very new and unexplored territory. You and Dr. Gottlieb have to train this, have to work with the range. You have already proven that you can be on your own, with him away. It’s not a matter of distance, only the brain’s dependency on touch sensations.”

“From him.”

“Yes. You are connected.”

He stared at the scan, took note of the changes of activity to his brain, and he both cursed and loved the day he had done this to himself.

They were connected.

For better or worse.

In good times and in bad times.

Fuck, he was married to Hermann’s brain.

 

* * *

 

Maybe he should have taken the day off when Marshall Hansen told him that Hermann’s return home would delayed, that he wouldn’t get back until the next week.

Maybe he should have listened to that inner voice, that scream of denial and anger, that he had six more nights to get through, that this was torturetorture _TORTURE_!

Maybe his brain was too far gone to even listen to his inner voice of reason, whatever that was and whenever he had developed it. Newton had never been aware of a voice of reason. He had actually believed there was no such thing.

His day had passed almost like on automatic. He tried to stave off the inevitable by plunging into research, running tests, trying to decode Kaiju DNA samples into something that made sense.

Still, it happened.

So not even a week into Hermann’s absence, after another sleepless night, everything broke down. That night had been a few hours caught after an all-nighter, tossing and turning.

Newton gave up on sleep, cursed his insomniac wreck of a brain, and went down into the freight hangar to check on the delivery of Kaiju parts so graciously ‘donated’ by Hannibal Chau – for a not insubstantial donation on the PPDC’s part. He might not have been in the best of mental states at the time, running on too much caffeine, a lot of desperation, and no common sense at all.

It could explain the why.

No one could really explain the how.

The result was an explosion of pain in his face and left shoulder, then a moment of absolute disorientation, and when the white flashes of pain disappeared, there was an unfamiliar face hovering over him, calling his name.

Someone pushed down on his shoulder and Newton cried out, trying to bolt away, but he couldn’t.

“Dr. Geiszler, calm down, we got you, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay.”

Who? Who was that person?

Newton gritted his teeth. It felt like someone had stuck a glowing hot nail into his shoulder, immobilizing his arm and hand. He was breathing raggedly by now and he knew he was losing grip on everything.

Then there was a more familiar voice, one who was cursing up a storm and calling for the medics to hurry the fuck up.

Newton learned a few more Australian swear words that moment.

It was all that stuck as he lost consciousness.

 

* * *

 

“You were lucky.”

“I don’t feel lucky.”

Newton sat on the bed, trying to stop the world from spinning. At least it distracted his now very messed-up brain from the fact that he had been living on too little sleep and too much frantic energy for a week now.

His heard hurt.

His left shoulder hurt.

All of him hurt; everywhere.

He felt like shit.

On top of that he had a British Jaeger pilot looking at him as if he had been the bad boy in the kindergarten playgroup. Q could at least feel a little empathy here.

“This could have easily crippled or killed you. It was pure luck that the mechanic saw you.”

“I know. My fault. Sorry. Can I go home now?” he mumbled.

His left side felt like it didn't belong to him and neither hand would obey the commands from his brain. He felt like he needed to just lay down and never get up again.

Q touched his good arm and Newton looked up into the brown eyes, saw a fine smile play around the younger man’s lips.

“This will get better, but you need to not kill yourself before Hermann’s back, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Let’s get you to your quarters.”

No broken bones, just a puncture wound, the doctors had said. Just! It hurt like hell and his tattoos were probably all messed up now. He had stitches in his shoulder, a sling, and a bandage taped to his head where a metal bar that had brained him had left a gaping wound that had been stitched, too.

In a nutshell: Dr. Newton Geiszler looked like a Jaeger had fallen on him.

 

*

 

Newton slept fitfully that night, despite the pain medication they had doped him up with. He felt fuzzy, not from this world, and when the medication wore off, the pain had him whimper to himself until he got upright and swallowed two of his prescription pills.

 

*

 

Q was there in the morning.

Who had given him the code to Newton’s door? Then again, the man was a genius hacker and didn’t need that.

“Breakfast?” Q offered.

“Shower,” Newton begged.

He smelled like a whole hospital and he hated the itch he felt all over.

“Wash cloth,” was the gentle reminder.

Yeah, he wasn’t allowed to shower. So he suffered through the indignity of a washcloth, though he was unendingly grateful that Q was there. He was very careful of the stitches, cleaned the blood and the antiseptic from the tattooed skin, then changed Newt’s bandages.

“You don’t have to do that,” the K-scientist mumbled.

“You can’t do it yourself, can you?”

He sighed.

“And I drew the short straw.”

Newton’s head came up from his morose study of the tiled floor. He regretted it immediately as pain hammered behind his eyes, but for now there was something bigger to think of. Like,

“Short straw?!”

Q chuckled. “James, Raleigh and I decided one of us had to take care of you. Mako volunteered, but we didn’t want to embarrass you too much.”

Newton gaped at him. “Uh.”

“So here I am.”

“The short straw.”

That got him a soft laugh. “Kind of. Ready to tackle food?”

Not really, but Newton gamely went for it anyway.

 

 

He was puzzled by the location, but only briefly. He recognized it as the long since abandoned kitchen area of the apartment complex he and Hermann, and Bond and Q, and lately Raleigh and Chuck, had moved to in the Shatterdome. No one really came here because the mess was easier, had all the convenient food and drinks, and because it would mean cooking for yourself.

He found that everyone was there, even Herc, who was having a quiet talk with Mako over something or other on her tablet. Chuck was stuffing his mouth with pancakes, Raleigh was reading a book with only a cup of coffee in hand, and James was apparently power napping after breakfast.

The clear blue eyes cracked open a little and he gave Newton a smile as he settled down beside him. Then he pretended to nap again.

“No coffee,” Q reminded him. It was something the doctor had said.

“Good to see you, Doc,” Herc greeted him.

Mako gave him a smile and a serene nod. Chuck made a non-committal sound, and Raleigh smiled at him over his book.

Newton briefly wondered if he got them from Hermann. It looked like one of his; old tome, dusty, leather-bound.

Then he had toast in front of him.

It was about all his stomach was in the mood for anyway. The pain medication made him queasy and sleepy and slowed down his thoughts.

Huh. One good thing to come out of this.

Newton slowly ate his toast, waiting for his stomach to decide whether it liked it or not, then ate some more bites.

“How’s the arm?” Herc asked.

The man had suddenly appeared at his side and the others were suspiciously absent, aside from Bond. Q was puttering around in the back, but Chuck and Raleigh had gone off to wherever.

“Sadly, still attached.”

The Marshall chuckled roughly. “Luckily still attached. That was a close call.”

“Sorry.”

”Just don’t wander around the cargo hold in the middle of the night, half-asleep.”

Newton gritted his teeth.

“And fuck yes, I know what this is about, so stop glaring at your food. You and Gottlieb haven’t had a lot of time to get used to the changes and hell if I really understand it all. All I’m saying is, stay out of the lab and the work areas.”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbled.

His arm ached. As did his head.

“Now I have to explain to that anal partner of yours how you ended up with a hole in your shoulder and a banged-up head,” Herc grumbled.

Newt tried a little smile, meeting the blue-gray eyes carefully, and saw only humor.

 

 

He spent the rest of the day in a haze of sleeping, dozing, lunch with Tendo and Q, more sleeping, an early dinner with Herc and James, and then more dozing.

Newton was told to go to the infirmary for the doctors to check his wounds. He got a pat on the head for keeping everything clean and immobile. The stitches had held. He was given a lecture and a long list on what he could and could not do.

He was a medical doctor himself, thank you very much! He had the degree, one of six, guys! Six! And he knew how to handle his own injuries.

Still he sat through the lecture, tired, aching, wanting Hermann.

 

 

He was too tired to undress when he was back in his quarters. Too tired to realize they were actually Hermann’s. Too tired to think too much about the fact that he curled up in the neatly made bed. And he would deny crying.

The night passed in the same doped-up haze.

Yeah, he had the good drugs.

 

*

 

The drugs helped the next night, though it was a close thing. He declined Q’s help in getting washed up, claiming he was an adult. He splashed water on his face, looking at the pale, drawn face like it was a stranger.

Newton spent the day getting checked in medical, told he was doing fine, and sleeping off the pain drugs.

Really good drugs.

They couldn’t stop the thoughts, though. The thoughts that came when his brain decided it had had enough sleep – at two in the morning, thankyouverymuch – and he lay in bed, more awake than the past forty-eight hours, staring at the celing.

Newton called himself an idiot, a dependent little shit, and he pushed at the empty echoes down the connection he usually shared with Hermann with a force that had him nauseous for a minute or two.

It didn’t help.

So at three in the morning he prowled around the Shatterdome, by-passed his lab, and finally ended up outside to get some fresh air.

And he promptly ran into a solid wall of muscle. By the way, ouch. His shoulder complained and he hunched over a little.

“Whoa, hey, doc,” Raleigh Becket exclaimed with a breathless little laugh. “Didn’t see you there for a second. You okay? Shoulder okay?”

Newton straightened his glasses. “Uh, hi, sorry. Didn’t see you either. And yeah, I’m good.”

Raleigh looked like he had just run a few rounds and Newton distantly remembered there were tracks on top of the Shatterdome.

“Newton?”

Oh, fun. Two. James Bond walked up to them, looking equally sweaty from a run. Who was running at this time of night?!

“Just getting some fresh air,” he mumbled.

A hand stopped him and the glacially blue eyes were intense. Newton felt like he was getting a brain scan of a different kind and part of him cringed a little.

“Let’s get some coffee,” Bond said and there was no room for choice.

Raleigh simply joined them, on Newton’s other side, the two pilots neatly guiding him toward the mess hall. It was empty, as not otherwise expected, and the coffee turned out to be tea.

“You need anything but coffee, Newt,” James told him as the mug of herbal tea was placed in front of him.

He and Raleigh had bottled water.

“Dr. Gottlieb’s staying in London.”

Newton’s head shot up at that remark. Raleigh was simply silent while Bond’s expression was knowing and quizzical in one.

“Yeah,” he finally said slowly.

“Q mentioned something like a delay. Sucks.”

“Kinda.”

“How many days?”

“Three,” Newton sighed, too tired to stall or lie or even obfuscate.

“Have you been sleeping at all?”

“Kinda. With the pain meds, sure.”

Raleigh’s confusion was almost comical and Newton would have laughed if he had had the strength for it.

“Drift effects,” James said as if that explained everything.

The blond’s brows furrowed down and he looked at Newton in a completely different way. Something was working in that brain of his and Newton was afraid how close the man would get. Raleigh wasn’t stupid.

“Still?” he asked.

“On-going,” Bond answered before Newton could.

“Well, fuck.”

Now Newton did burst out laughing, a desperate little noise that was nearly a sob. “You have no idea how fucked up it is,” he breathed. “It’s whole new dimension of fucked up.”

He didn’t elaborate.

No one asked him to, either.

 

 

He didn’t sleep much after that, was in the lab at eight, but it felt a bit better than last night.

Company helped.

And yes, he adhered to the Marshall’s orders. No work. He simply sat there and watched the others do the heavy lifting and even heavier thinking.

And feeling miserable.

tbc...


	9. Chapter 9

It wasn’t James who kept him company the next night; it was, of all people, Raleigh. The man seemed to be a night owl himself and he just shrugged almost sheepishly when Newton remarked on it.

Okay, so nightmares were a common phenomenon here.

They were in the hangar bay, watching the round the clock work on Skyfall Prime and the new Mark VI, and Raleigh had this distant expression in his face.

“I’d have gone for naming her Striker,” he finally commented with a shrug. “But Chuck wouldn’t have it. Herc neither. It would be an honor and a disgrace in one. And slapping a 2 at the end of that name is even more dishonoring. She was theirs. Herc and Chuck’s. She was a sacrifice made to save the world.”

Newton had no idea what to say to that.

“Gipsy was… still Gipsy. It was hard, though. Knowing the history, being that history…” He stopped. “I spent five years alone, trying to work through this nightmare, and then I was back in the Conn-Pod, not with Yancy, and it felt… not too bad.”

Still no idea what to say.

“I was lucky to have Mako. She grounded me, I grounded her. We fit. The pain’s still there and always will be. I know what the doctors say, that I’m brain damaged, that part of me was torn away and part of Yancy was left behind. That’s probably right.”

Newton swallowed. He knew the history, had heard about the fight, the loss, Raleigh’s flight.

“There was suddenly nothing but this ache, this pain, this longing for someone who was gone. I made it through. And I’m even more lucky now.” Raleigh’s features softened a little, though the haunted look stayed in his eyes.

Newt allowed himself a knowing little smile. Raleigh caught it and laughed.

“I guess sometimes we find the right people, even if the circumstances aren’t ideal.”

Ah. That’s it. Long winding road to the actually target.

“Dr. Gottlieb and I are colleagues,” he heard himself say.

“Close colleagues.”

“Ten years is a long time to not kill each other.”

“I guess. I know a lot about that kind of impulse control.”

“You probably do.” Newton chewed on his lower lip.

“Bond didn’t tell me anything, Doc, but it’s not hard to miss that something’s wrong. Dr. Gottlieb’s off to some conference and you’re…”

“Falling apart?” he breathed, sounding almost painfully flat.

“Slightly more off than usual,” Raleigh corrected him. “You don’t sleep. I know the look. I’ve been facing that look in the mirror for years. Something happened in that Drift and it has changed you and Dr. Gottlieb.”

Newton ran his hands through his already tousled hair. His eyes were on the Jaegers in front of him, their armor plating still off, their construction looking barely complete.

“More me than him,” he finally said shakily. “I’m the wreck.”

And he found himself spilling his guts to a Jaeger jockey who probably had no interest at all in the intricacies of Newton Geiszler’s chaotic mind.

But Raleigh listened. Patiently. With moments of shock, intermixed with realization, and never any pity. There was nothing he could say or do, even if the company was nice and helped a little, but Newton had to fight through this on his own.

“That’s intense, Newt,” Raleigh finally said.

They had somehow moved into an empty area, usually used by mechanics and engineers, and there was an old couch and a fridge, and now Newton was holding a beer. As did Raleigh.

“It is,” he found himself saying. “And it’s only me. I’m the one with the brain damage and the crazy dependency and the fucked-up life. At least Hermann can sleep.”

“How do you know?”

He blinked, looking at the blond, the serious blue eyes, his whole so damn serious behavior.

“I… I… I mean, he buffers. He doesn’t need someone fucking _touch_ him at night to get some rest!”

“It’s not always about touch. I know you know everything about Drift technology, more than we pilots do. You know this is a neural handshake, between two people. Two. Both are connected and both have Ghost-Drifts later on.”

“This isn’t…”

Raleigh held up a hand. “I know. It’s more. And there was a Kaiju involved. I’ll be damned if I can make sense of your decision, but I know you saved our lives. You and Dr. Gottlieb. What I’m saying is, there are always two and both are affected. Dr. Gottlieb might be only the buffer, but from what you tell me, there is more. There is affection and then some. He might not need physical touch, but I highly doubt he’s averse to it.”

Newton fidgeted a little. “Maybe.”

“Definitely. He grounds you, but you give him companionship. Maybe the buffer needs your side just as much. You can feel him calm you down, maybe he feels something, too?”

He was silent, looking at his empty beer bottle. “Maybe,” Newton finally murmured.

 

 

He actually caught some sleep that night.

In the morning, Raleigh sat down at the table Newton had chosen, coffee in hand, eyes so serious, so quizzical, Newton just had to beam brightly at him.

It got him a little amused snort.

Yeah, who did he think he was fooling?

 

*

 

The next night he happened to run into Mako, who dragged him off into the Jaeger bay, talking about the new Mark-VI. Newton was a bit flabbergasted, but that turned into shock when Chuck Hansen was there.

And Raleigh, Tendo, James and Q.

And a table with…

“Board games?” he blurted.

“Yep. Better than poker,” Raleigh laughed. “More team building, less cleaning out someone’s pockets.”

“Aw, you’re only pissed off because you lost that last hand,” Chuck drawled.

“Strip poker,” Tendo added with a wink. “Not that Chuck here minded.”

Hansen glared at him.

Bond just smirked.

“And we wouldn’t want to take advantage of Dr. Geiszler’s handicap.” Raleigh pushed Newton toward a seat.

Newt sat down, confused. He was even more startled when the Marshall joined them, lightly squeezing his good shoulder.

“Welcome to the club, Newt. Sit down. Beer?”

And he had a beer in his hand, a team mate by the name of Mako Mori, and Herc decided he was the games master. Tendo joined Skyfall’s command crew.

“Control freak,” Chuck grumbled.

“That’s Marshall Control Freak to you, kid. Now pick a color and start rolling the dice.”

 

 

Newton appreciated the gesture from the Jaeger pilots as he lay in his bed, gazing at the ceiling. He smiled a little to himself, the four beers giving him a pleasant buzz, and tried to relax.

 

*

 

The doctors told him he was healing just fine. It didn’t change the fact that showering was out of the question until next week, and then only with a waterproof tape over the stitches.

Oh fun.

But at least he had something to look forward to. There was an emotional hole in his life. A Hermann-shaped hole. It ate up everything else.

 _I'm so pathetic_ , he thought as he sat on the couch, staring unseeingly at the TV. He didn't even know what program was running, or what language it was in.

 

*

 

Newton stood outside in the damp air, inhaling it deeply. It smelled acutely like rain, even tasted like it, and a few drops were still coming down from the gray sky. A wind had picked up and it looked like there would be another rain shower due soon.

The early morning sun had not managed to break the clouds and the whole atmosphere was both clean and dreary.

It was five a.m.

Newton had been unable to sleep any longer. He had been woken by the pain in his shoulder

He leaned against the wall behind him, next to the hatch that had led him outside, closing his eyes, turning his face into the slight drizzle.

 

 

It was maybe an hour later, his hair damp and hanging limply into his forehead, his clothes just as damp, that Newton walked into the kitchen area of the apartment level.

He rummaged through the fridge and got out the ingredients for a quick snack. He gratefully noted that someone had stocked up on milk and soft drinks. Newton started making sandwiches one-handed, a haphazard affair. The sandwich looked nothing like they had in the mess, but at least it was food. Other food than sticky donuts and coffee.

“Hey, Doc.”

He was startled by the voice and nearly dropped the messy concoction of bread, lettuce and ham.

“Whoa! What’cha do with that sandwich? Step on it?”

Newton grimaced as Chuck Hansen sauntered over, looking at his breakfast snack.

“That’s not really breakfast, right?”

He glared at the younger man. “It is.”

“Huh.”

He poured himself some coffee and leaned against the counter.

“I thought they fed you science nerds right. This is worse than the grub they had in Sydney.”

Newton bristled a little, but he determinedly walked over to the table and sat down. Eating one-handed was just as messy and half his sandwich ended up on his plate again. In soggy pieces. He was too tired to be embarrassed, and too exhausted to try and make himself something else.

“Geez, mate,” Chuck muttered. “Disgusting much?”

“Shuddup.”

“You know what, for my peace of mind and to spare me the nightmares of watching you eat, here’s a novel idea: let’s go to the mess.”

“No.” He really, really had no energy for it.

Chuck looked at him, eyes unrelenting, his whole face set as if he was about to face a Kaiju. “They still got breakfast going. My treat.”

Newton snorted. “It’s free.”

Chuck smirked and made an inviting gesture. “C’mon, Doc. Let’s get some food into you. That arm needs something substantial to heal.”

“I have a medical degree, Hansen. I know that.”

“Right.”

“Not going.”

“Marshall’s gonna skin me alive if you keel over on my watch.”

“Not your watch. Who says I need watching?” Newton argued, feeling a wave of anger that energized him. “I’m not a toddler.”

Chuck snorted and it didn’t sound like a compliment. Asshole.

“Jury’s still out on that. Let’s go.”

Little shit.

But Newton surrendered. He knew the younger man would pester him until he came along and Chuck was nothing if not a persistent little shit. So he did go. With Chuck Hansen. He was probably still delirious.

 

*

 

“You really got six doctorates?”

Newton looked up from the ginormous stack of pancakes and syrup on his plate. He had collapsed at a table, grateful the mess was mostly empty this time of the day, with a few late stragglers sitting at another table.

Hansen hadn’t lied about the substantial part. This was really something and Newton had suddenly felt hungry. The coffee helped, too. Lots of coffee. It was a good pick-me-upper.

“Uh, yes.”

Chuck’s eyebrows drew together. “Why?”

Newton chewed on the fluffy piece of golden deliciousness. “It kinda happened?”

Raleigh, who had joined them not long after Chuck had placed the pancakes in front of him, chuckled. He looked fresh out of the shower and from Chuck’s expression, he liked what he saw. It wasn’t a secret that the two men were an item, though a rather argumentative one sometimes.

“It kinda happened, Newt? How?”

Newton shrugged one shoulder, though it ached in his other one. “Genius IQ?”

Raleigh raised his eyebrows, wanting clearly more. “Not a good explanation.”

So he told them. About being the second youngest student to be admitted into MIT. About his thirst for knowledge, his keen interest in biology in all forms. About receiving six doctorates by 2015, teaching at MIT until 2016 when he was recruited by the PPDC and met Hermann Gottlieb.

“I didn’t really need long for the first. I studied biology and took up medicine on the side.”

“On the side,” Chuck snorted, shaking his head, but there was a teasing smile around his lips.

Raleigh elbowed him lightly.

“So I was into genetics and had a degree and then the medical one.” Newton pushed a piece of pancake through the syrupy puddle on his plate. “And exobiology wasn’t really a big field until the Kaiju came, so that was like taking candy from a baby. Chemistry wasn’t all that hard. Physics took me a little longer, but it was finally a challenge.”

Chuck shook his head, trying not to laugh. Raleigh elbowed him again.

“And, uhm, botany was like a hobby,” Newton added.

Just a year before he had left MIT to work in the Shatterdome. By then he had been a name in the field of artificial tissue replication. They had called him a genius, a pioneer. With the arrival of the first Kaiju, more pioneering credits amassed. He had no idea how many patents he held, how much was in his name.

It was a lot.

“You’re something,” Raleigh grinned. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about any of that. I wouldn’t even try to understand what it takes to make a Jaeger move, what the Drift technology is all about, what it does to our brains.”

Newton gave him a teasing grin of his own. “You can ask me. I can give you the dumbed-down version of it.”

“Huh, thanks,” Chuck grunted. “And no thanks.”

Newton ate the last piece of pancake, feeling a lot better than just an hour before. Company and food, food and company. It helped. A year ago he wouldn’t have dreamed that the company entailed Jaeger pilots. He liked them; all of them.

“Hey, boys.”

Speaking of which… Herc sat down next to Newton, giving him a brief, appraising look, then nodded at the empty breakfast plate.

“Good kid.”

Newton groaned. “What am I? The family project?”

“You got that right. Somebody has to take care of you. Dr. Gottlieb will kill us in creative ways if you end up malnourished or with another hole in your body. He doesn’t know about the first one, so let’s not give him even more to blow a gasket.” Herc sipped at his coffee. “And we like you, Newt.”

He refused to blush, just quickly drank from his coffee.

“How’s the shoulder?” the Marshall asked.

“Sore.”

It got him a wry smile. “Hurts like a bitch, hm?”

“Only about every hour.”

“You sleepin’ at all?”

Newton looked at his empty plate. “No,” he murmured. “Not really well.”

Chuck frowned, but he didn’t say anything. Neither did his father or Raleigh. Newton managed a brief smile.

“I should get off to work. Thanks for…” He made a vague gesture at the empty plate as he looked at Chuck.

“Don’t mention it, Newt. That sandwich was a disgusting looking eye-sore.”

“Hey!”

Chuck smirked. “Next time, ask my old man. He can show you how to make a sandwich one-handed.”

“Hey,” Herc growled.

Raleigh grabbed a handful of Chuck’s shirt and pulled him away from the table. “Training,” he snapped.

From Chuck’s expression, ‘training’ meant something other than the Kwoon for him. Herc snorted into his coffee, eyes glinting.

Newton rose as well, shooting Herc a brief look of thanks.

“You’re not supposed to work, Geiszler,” the Marshall called after his lead Kaiju scientist.

“Watching the minions is not working,” Newton called back.

 

 

Actually, he didn’t go to the lab. He strolled through the corridors toward the hangar bay where he watched work on the Jaegers. Skyfall Prime looked marvelous, he had to confess. For a Mark-III she was a fantastic Jaeger, though there was talk about shipping her off into a museum or such nonsense. Bond and Q were supposed to get a new Mark-VI. Then again, there were also rumors that Skyfall would get a serious upgrade and refurbishment instead.

Epic North was badass. She was as sleek as Striker Eureka had been, armed to the max, and the engineers had been allowed to go wild on a few new features. Newton knew about it from Hermann’s grumblings about untested tech in his Jaegers.

He loved it when the man became possessive of his AI programming. It was adorably endearing and made Newt want to do things to the other man that would probably get him killed.

A few of the workers nodded at him in recognition and Newton gave them a friendly smile. Since he had become part of the small circle of men and one woman consisting of active and former Jaeger pilots, he was a known factor in the hangar bays.

It was weird.

And nice.

Nicely weird or weirdly nice? His brain nearly went off in that direction, pondering both, but he managed to rein himself in.

See? No Hermann necessary. Huh.

And there it was again, that pang of longing.

Newton wandered back into the Shatterdome’s main area and finally found himself in the Kwoon area. There was no sign of Chuck, or Raleigh for that matter, but Mako was there, shadow-boxing. Well, shadow-staff-wielding.

It looked sleek and practiced and easy and Newton knew he would take an eye out and probably knock himself unconscious if he even so much as tried it.

“Newt,” Mako greeted him when she saw him.

“Hey, uh, don’t let me interrupt. Just talking a walk around.”

He made a vague gesture that meant he had no idea where he had been, why he was here, and that he had no plans for the day.

Mako smiled and nodded at one of the benches. Newton dutifully sat down and was soon entranced in her effortless seeming dance.

 

 

“How are you faring, Newt?”

He looked up from his green tea – it was amazingly good. “Uh. As well as can be expected?”

Mako didn’t look like she had just spent three hours in the Kwoon. She hadn’t even mentioned a shower, had simply invited him to a cup of tea into her quarters, and he had gone.

“Dr. Gottlieb will be back soon.”

“I know.”

“You haven’t called him.” It was a statement, not a question.

“No. It would be… difficult,” Newton added at her slightly raised eyebrows. Damn, she was good at that. “I mean, hearing his voice isn’t the problem. It’s more of a tactile sensation…”

“Touch,” she agreed. “You are human and therefore don’t possess a Kaiju brain. A human brain can’t be part of the hive.”

And she was bright. He had always known that. They had actually known each other for close to eight years and he had watched her grow up in a way.

“Yeah. My brain translates the need for a hive into touch sensation.”

“From Dr. Gottlieb.”

He nodded. “Probably because we were in that last Drift together. Whole brain, second Drift for me, and voila! New form of Ghosting. Probably new form of brain damage, too. We trained it. Still do. A week would have been okay, but now it’s two and… it’s hard.”

He stopped his rambling before he started to cry. He doubted Mako would hold it against him, but he would. It was embarrassing in so many ways.

“You have been doing well, Newt. So very well.”

He shrugged his good shoulder. “The company helps.”

She smiled. “Then let the company know. Raleigh and Chuck and I want to help. The Marshall, too. You are our friend. If you want to talk or just have someone with you, look for us. We don’t mind.”

He ducked his head. “Thanks,” he murmured.

Mako touched his hand, slender but strong fingers curling around it. She squeezed it gently.

 

* * *

 

When Hermann came back, a week after the accident, Newton greeted him cheerfully, an almost manic gleam to his eyes. There was still the bandage taped across the cut on his head, his arm was still in a sling, but he had gone back to his lab and was having his minions do the real work.

They also never mentioned it when he fell asleep because of the pain meds. Good kids. All of them.

“Hey, you got some color. Good for you, Hermann!” he called clear across the lab as the other man limped inside. “And is that a new coat? Flashy!”

It was black. Like all of Hermann’s coats. And the skin color was pale as usual. Not even a sunburn.

“Did you get me something, too?”

“What in god’s name happened to you?!”

Ow, that was loud. It was even louder because it came clear across their joyfully revived connection, slamming into Newton’s abused brain and rattling around in there.

“Uhm, accident?” Newt tried.

Hermann’s dark expression grew even darker. His too sharp eyes saw probably more than Newton wanted him to see. That needy little biologist, hyper, too cheerful, too everything. The man who had crawled into his bed every night, who he knew everything of. The man who had gotten into an accident in the cargo bay because he had been so fuzzy from his insomnia, he had nearly gotten himself shot by a metal bolt and brained by a metal bar.

Hermann’s eyes widened and Newton realized too late that those hyper-energetic flashes hadn’t just stayed in his brain. Hermann had been the recipient of an abbreviated version of events.

Oh shit.

Hermann glared at him.

And for some reason there were hardly any minions around. The lab was near-deserted. No, scratch that. There went the last oh-so-not-helpful underling, scurrying away like a frightened mouse.

Hermann limped over to him, glowering. His eyes roamed his face, lingered on the sling, then he peered into Newton’s eyes.

“How many drugs are you on?” he demanded.

“Prescription only. Ibuprofen.”

“You should be resting in bed, not working.”

“I’m fine.”

“You have a hole in your shoulder, Geiszler! You needed stitches! As for the head wound…”

“I’m fine, Hermann, Really!”

“You are not fine, Newton Geiszler!” his partner snapped. “You are very far from fine! You didn’t even have the common sense to stay out of dangerous places, like the cargo hold in the middle of the damn night! What were you thinking?!”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Newton grumbled.

Gottlieb froze, then the anger came back. “Then watch TV, play cards or go into the gym!”

“I didn’t plan on getting hurt!” Newt snapped back. “I didn’t wander in there with the plan of having thirteen stitches in my head and fifteen in my shoulder! Do you know what that scar will do to my tattoo?”

Hermann stared at him as if he had lost his mind. “Your tattoo? You worry about your tattoo? What about your life?”

“I’m not dead!”

“You might as well could have been!”

“I’m not! And I’m here. And you are here. And…” Newton trailed off, his head aching, his energy spent. He closed his eyes and leaned back against his desk. “And you’re back,” he whispered, sounding close to broken.

There was a moment of silence, then cool, slender fingers touched his unshaven cheek. Newton opened his eyes and found a pair of dark brown ones looking back at him.

“Yes, I’m back, you idiot. I had hoped you wouldn’t try to kill yourself in my absence.”

“It was an accident,” Newton repeated.

“That could have been avoided if you had used at least a tenth of your fried synapses.”

“You’re mean,” Newton said softly. “I’m an ailing invalid.”

“You’re a lot of things.”

“Helplessly adorable and cute?”

Hermann grimaced, but the soft expression in those intense eyes gave him away.

“You are in need of sleep.” Gottlieb stepped back a little and Newton almost whined from the loss of contact. “At least the lab is still in one piece, though I see that you have trespassed again.”

Newton waved his good arm. “I needed some space.”

“The lab is big enough already. You don’t have to store your disgusting collection in my area!”

The banter felt incredibly good. It let the knot unfurl, had the connection grow, the tendrils between them wafting gently, seeking their counterparts.

Just having Hermann in his sight gave Newton warm, fuzzy feelings. Lots of them.

The sharp eyes were on him again.

“When was the last time you showered? Or for that matter, shaved?”

“I’m trying a new look.”

“Homeless vagrant?”

“Ouch, that hurts. I’ll have you know that this is a brand new dress shirt!”

“Maybe a week ago,” Gottlieb sniffed, then grimaced. “Like your last shower was a week ago. It’s a small miracle the biohazard alarm hasn’t gone off.”

“It’s not that bad,” Newton muttered, then took a sniff, too, and decided, okay, it was.

“Shower,” Hermann ordered, leaning on his cane.

There was no disobeying that voice.

 

 

Newton didn’t question the fact that he had a limping, grumbling, bitching and sour-faced shadow on his way back to his quarters.

 

 

The shower felt like heaven. Hermann had to help and it was a bit embarrassing, but it felt also heavenly. The way Gottlieb was watching him had Newton’s brain fire up in a different direction.

He blamed it solely on the pain meds.

Hermann carefully checked the stitches, looking pained, and Newton curled gentle fingers around the thin wrist, pulling the probing fingers away.

“I’m fine. Really. Now I am.”

Hermann looked a bit flustered. “You have a hole in your shoulder,” he finally said, trying for scathing and failing.

“Hermann.”

“Not to mention your head, though I doubt any more damage could have been done to that brain of yours.”

“Hermann.”

The dark eyes met his and Newton smiled, though it probably was as shaky as he felt.

“I’m okay. Really.”

 

_And you’re here. It helps so much._

 

Gottlieb’s pale cheeks stained with a faint blush.

“Bed,” he only muttered.

“No argument from me.”

God, he had missed this. So, so much.

It took some work, but Newton found a comfortable position for his shoulder. More important than that was Hermann’s reassuring caress running over his naked skin.

Neither mentioned the fact that Newton was only clad in a towel.

 

*

 

The sleep was the best he had had in a week. No, twelve days. He had made it twelve days!

That was going into his diary. The one he didn’t have but should really start.

He might have to pencil in a line about his idiotic accident, though.

tbc...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no clue as to what doctorates Newton really holds, only that he has six. I made them all up. 
> 
> As for the questions about how much Hermann felt: next chapter :)


	10. Chapter 10

“Did you… feel anything?” Newton asked carefully the next day over lunch.

Because it had taken this long for him to gather the courage to pose the question. The morning had been filled with getting up, grumbling his way into the bathroom, swallowing his prescriptions, getting awkwardly dressed – declining Hermann’s help – and having his routine check.

Gottlieb had accompanied him to the infirmary, scowling at the nurse who had given him a quizzical look. The doctor hadn’t so much as raised an eyebrow. He had simply probed the wound, checked blood pressure and pupil reaction, then told Newton to stay off the pain meds as much as possible.

Lunch was a burger in the lab, brought to him by his assistant, and eating it one handed. He was a pro at that. He had dissected Kaiju parts and had lunch at the same time. He was a well of talents.

Now he sat at Gottlieb’s desk, had cleared an area of print-outs, papers, tablets and whatnot, and he had even spread a napkin on it. Yes, he was a thoughtful lab partner.

Hermann had looked balefully at the food, but he hadn’t told him to eat it somewhere else. The minions were mostly at lunch and whoever was still there, they weren’t anywhere close. Everyone working under or with the two scientists, the heads of the research division, had quickly learned several things.

 

* Don’t spread biologicals in Dr. Gottlieb’s area of the shared lab space. Looks can kill. Really.

 

* Don’t intervene in an argument between Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb. No. Never! You won’t survive it.

 

* Don’t complain about such argument to the Marshall. Herc Hansen will just give you a look and tell you to suck it up.

 

* Don’t try to downplay the role of the neuro-biologist in the whole Thwarted Kaiju Apocalypse in front of Dr. Gottlieb to gain brownie points, because someone mistakenly interprets their bickering as animosity. You won’t get brownie points. You won’t get a pat on the head. If you’re lucky, you get a paper stating you might be better off teaching at a university of your choice. If you’re very, very unlucky… No, don’t ask what happens then. Dr. Gottlieb can hold a grudge for a very long time.

 

* Don’t interpret the relationship between the two men. Ever! Never, ever! Whatever it is, it is their private matter.

 

* Don’t interrupt lunch unless the Breach reopens, especially when Dr. Gottlieb allows Dr. Geiszler to eat greasy food on his desk.

 

Newton knew there was a lot of speculation about them, what the Drift had done to them, how they behaved with each other. He found some theories highly amusing, some downright interesting. He had fun hacking into the email exchanged. Those who had dropped a few remarks that no one would want to touch Hermann with a ten foot pole had been put under close scrutiny.

“You really think they are the first?” Hermann had remarked one evening in the lab as he had watched Newton scowl at the words on the screen.

“What? Why would no one want to touch you?” he had snapped. “I want to touch you. I like touching you. And you have a sexy brain, Herm!”

That had been close to a love declaration at the time and Gottlieb had flushed in such an adorable way, brow scrunching up, trying to decide whether to yell or ignore the comment, Newton had wanted to just hug the man.

He hadn’t.

Right now Hermann was silent for a long, long time. His face was almost closed off, his eyes fixed on Newton in an unnerving manner.

“Okay, forget I asked,” the biologist muttered, picking at his chips.

“I felt it,” Gottlieb suddenly said, just as he was about to turn away, maybe hide in the specimen storage area. “Not your injury, or I would have been here sooner. But I felt something amiss. Not as intensely as you. You are the more… affected and always will be.”

“Oh great, thanks.”

“I felt something was not there, like a hole. You weren’t around to constantly pester me.” The narrow features softened. “And this hole bothered me.”

“Bothered…” Newton echoed.

“I might have had a few moments here or there,” Hermann said, clearly uncomfortable, “where I… zoned out a little.”

“Uh.”

“And I might have felt… alone in the evenings. Without someone to cling to me like a limpet.”

Newton grimaced. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you love me. And I love you, too. Limpet,” he grumbled.

But inside he was cheering and dancing and grinning madly.

From Hermann’s expression, which was still uncharacteristically soft, he was very much aware of it. The warm waves between them were back in full strength, surrounding Newton’s slightly too stressed mind with a safety net he had dearly missed.

 

*

 

For a week they weren’t apart at night. Work was as usual, in their shared lab space, though Newton was still prohibited from wielding any kind of instrument, from dissecting Kaiju bits and pieces, and he hated that he couldn’t even type. One hand was way too slow for his brain, which was, as usual, trying to overtake its own thoughts.

And winning, most of the time.

Fuck.

Hermann snapped at him whenever Newton fumbled with whatever. He was trying to prove that he could very well contribute, even with one functional arm. His minions winced now and then when something slipped and broke. He shooed away their helpful hands and they soon retreated to a safer distance.

Hermann had no such qualms, yelling at him whenever he was interrupted by things dropping onto the floor.

He was getting better. He simply had to work on his technique.

 

 

The connection between them grew in strength. Not in any way that Newton would call negative. He felt more aware of his partner. He felt small surges from him sometimes, which Newton counted as a huge win. He was finally getting better at this thing.

They bickered in the lab. They bickered over lab space usage. They bickered over whatever came to mind.

And Newton felt more and more like he wanted to end those arguments with a kiss. Just to see how Hermann would react.

Now and then he caught the flustered look from the man in question.

Being together in bed, touching, Newt had started to touch back. A hand sliding over Hermann’s waist, underneath the pajama top, resting against the warm skin underneath. Gottlieb had never protested. There had never been any talk about early morning hard-ons, there had never been any kind of talk about any kind of reaction to the touch, because Newton felt too relaxed, too grounded, and he was sorting through too many feelings.

It was like a growing wave, heading their way, and Newton just knew something would have to give soon.

 

*

 

“I like the hair,” Newton remarked a few nights later, gazing thoughtfully at the dark hair in question, longer than before, neatly combed to one side.

Very accurate.

Very Hermann.

He ran his fingers over the soft strands. Felt them stick up. He grinned.

“Is that product, Herm?” he teased.

It got him a grumble and a hand batting at his fingers. Newton rolled into Gottlieb’s side, face mashed against the pale neck. His glasses were on the table, carefully folded.

This morning the sling had come off and the stitches had been removed. He still felt sore, but it was bearable. Hermann kept frowning at him, but the anger was missing. He also insisted to see the wounds every day, to change the bandages, to help with the showers.

Damn, those times had been… different.

Something had changed.

Again.

And it wasn’t really bad, in Newton’s opinion. Since Hermann had yet to voice his protests or grumble about it in any other way, he seemed cool with it.

A hand ended up in his hair. His hair with product. He was a man with style.

“You are not,” Hermann muttered, though not unkindly, tugging at the dark strands.

It should be weird to have some thoughts drift over; it wasn’t. And, ouch.

Two Kaiju Drifts had rewired his brain, had probably fried more than a few neurons, and Drifting with a Kaiju and Hermann had permanently seared something into his brain that hadn’t been there before.

He wanted this. He needed this. They both did. It was essential for them to be this close, like recharging after a long day.

Acceptance had finally settled in. Newton knew he couldn’t change anything. This was what he had become; this was what he had to work with. They could stand to be apart, but it wasn’t always a pleasant experience.

At least Newton wasn’t crying into his pillow. Not anymore. And hadn’t that been embarrassing?

No, they could work with what they had, as long as the recharge was like this. Close, as close as they could be, touching and caressing and just feeling.

Only a few people understood what this really was. That it was Hermann Gottlieb who Newton needed. Fastidious, stick-up-his-ass, repressed, anal Gottlieb. Well, Q did understand. A lot. And James. They were that close and then some. But James Bond was a wet dream, a pilot, a man of action, and no one had any doubt that Q could be physically attracted to the man. And Q wasn’t that bad looking either, and he worked out, was a pilot.

Hermann was… a recluse, a math genius, the man who had the Jaeger programming, who found comfort in numbers, in codes, could live in his lab with no company for pleasure. The very idea of Gottlieb being such a gentle, tactile, loving presence would be an alien notion.

It was a fact, though. A proven, solid fact.

And Newton loved it; loved him. Another solid fact that had crept up on him and stayed there. It had taken a while for him to sift through the emotions he had been bombarded with, to make sense of so much information that had intermingled with the Kaiju stuff and his own, hyperactive mind.

There were feelings.

Suppressed and now expressed. In his own way. Always in his own way.

Actually, over years.

No, Hermann hadn’t minded being there for Newton, not after the neural handshake, not after seeing the best and the worst of Newton Geiszler in a nutshell – and then some. He hadn’t really fought the closeness, hadn’t been appalled.

It had simply taken a while for Newton to understand the reasons.

Currently, Hermann was reading with a tablet, a new experience, made necessary since he usually only had one free hand to hold a book. The other hand had been monopolized by Newt. After braining him with a tomb twice, Gottlieb had agreed that it wasn’t a good idea to try it one-handed.

Give and take.

They weren’t a hive, though they weren’t pack either. Or a flock. Or a pride. Newton had teased his colleague endlessly with the possibilities. It had driven Hermann up the wall on one side and down the other.

That hadn’t changed.

It never would.

Newton wrapped his fingers around the wrist of the hand holding the tablet, pushing it to lay on the mattress. Hermann let him. His eyes were deep and dark and open.

So very open.

Sometimes, the lack of shields and masks still surprised Newt. That absolute trust. That nothing was between them anymore. He had seen it all and he knew Hermann knew, so slowly, like one layer after another, the masks had come down when they were alone.

And Newton had discovered his lab partner had a wonderful smile if he wanted to. He could laugh. He _did_ laugh.

It had floored him a little and maybe even scared Hermann back then.

They were still discovering so many aspects of their connected minds, how deep it went, how strong it was, how needy both of them were. Hermann had written endless pages on the subject, on what they had encountered within the Kaiju mind, and the scientific world was lapping it up.

They wouldn’t be guinea pigs, though.

Never.

The scientific world would just have to live with that. _Suck it up_ , Newt thought darkly.

Hermann let go of the tablet and slipped the hand underneath the black t-shirt Newton was wearing, as always with a Kaiju print on them. He had them all. The whole set. He loved them.

Cool fingers drifted over warm skin, found the pattern of his tattoos on his body without seeing them. He followed the rising waves, the blue with their brighter crests.

Tactile. So much more tactile. Hermann more so than Newton, who had never known personal boundaries or accepted limitations.

“Of course not,” was the murmur. “That wouldn’t be you.”

Newton simply lapped it up. Hermann gave it with a casualness that floored him sometimes. And he always knew when it was needed, when stress relief was in order.

_Two weeks apart and look what happens_ , he thought. Here they were, seeking comfort, work be damned.

They. Yes, both of them. Newton had thought he would be the only one to suffer, but he felt Hermann’s need just as keenly.

This was what the Kaiju Drift had done to them. Connected them, closer than James and Q were, closer than anyone could ever be. Needy of reassurance in form of physical contact.

Hermann dragged blunt nails lightly over Newton’s ribs, making him shiver. He closed his eyes.

He felt something between them rise, like a tidal wave that would swallow him and sweep him away. It had been building all week, demanding, wanting an outlet.

He didn’t fight it.

He let it roll over him and take him down, grab him, spit him out again.

It had happened before, that spike, that strange awareness coming closer and closer, coming from Hermann. Something was happening within the other man, something Newt was waiting for.

The remaining echoes lapped around him, seeking comfort, seeking him.

Not even two weeks apart and they were back to square one. Well, shit. They had to work on that.

“No,” Hermann murmured. “We are better than that.”

“Touch starved isn’t better,” he muttered into the damp skin.

“A small price to pay for what we did. We could be dead. Or blabbering, salivating vegetables.”

Newton huffed a laugh, then pushed himself up with his good arm to look into the dark eyes. Humor. There were sparks of humor.

He loved those sparks.

They made him smile in return.

“At least I’d be a good-looking vegetable.”

“That is debatable.”

Long fingers, pale against his more tanned face, stroked over his stubble.

Newton knew that in Hermann’s life, closeness had never been favored. He had had siblings – he was the third out of four children – but there had been no touching. No love. It had been all about success and reaching one’s full potential, not being a child. He had been a genius and he had always been treated like an adult. Newton had been shocked to finally understand that in the Drift, though it had taken a while for him to work through everything that he had been shown about his colleague.

His own parents, artists both of them, had been more liberal in dousing him with hugs and kisses. Newton had lived out his wild side, had been a child, had read comics and manga, had watched monster movies, had been a fan of so many things.

And he had had friends.

Hermann… not so much. Awkward encounters. The girls had giggled and called him a geek. An adorable little guy.

The guys hadn’t really wanted to get to know him.

Hermann had been the child genius, thirteen, teaching abstract math to a class full of people almost twice his age, and they hadn’t really wanted to get to know him. He had never been allowed to be a child, but he hadn’t been treated like a grown-up either. He had been a freak. Sure, he had been a genius, but people only wanted to pick his brain, not be his friend.

So Hermann had turned to applied sciences, had turned to numbers, had turned to science in general. And he had turned his back on social human interaction.

Some disjointed thoughts bounced around Newton’s head. How had he thought to make it work with Vanessa? Probably not at all. Marriage on paper, good for both their careers. Keeps the parents’ complaints about his solitary life at a minimum.

“Herm?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Knee-jerk reaction. Newton loved it. He wanted it. He wanted…

The surge was there, building again, waiting. This was more than a few separation echoes. Spent bouncing around the lab like a rubber ball, all lost and alone.

Waiting.

Like a pining puppy.

Hermann’s thumb brushed over his lower lip, the pale face so serious, so intent, full concentration, but still hesitant in a way Newton found endearing.

“You saw everything,” Gottlieb said softly.

No question, just a fact.

The tension between them was almost palpable. It was a good tension, like on the verge of a breakthrough. It was that rush of adrenaline before the Eureka moment.

“Yeah.”

Not a virgin. Not really. But also not the most sexual of beings. Hermann Gottlieb had known the theory about sex and he had decided to go about it the way he approached everything. He tried it. Twice. Once with a woman, once with a man. Empirical evidence had suggested that sex was a messy encounter that yielded no results for Hermann. It was pleasure, yes, but nothing he would chase after or needed.

He had never needed another human being, a warm body with him. He had never sought companionship.

Just those two encounters.

Like a scientific trial. Analytical and detached, not feeling anything but curiosity.

And sex had been classified as… secondary. No, even less than that. Something that wasn’t needed. Something he had tried and not found worth repeating. He wasn’t asexual, no. Hermann also wasn’t someone to just throw himself into a relationship without further investigation, and in the past decades he had never found reason for such an investigation.

Yes, there had been a few advances, but he had simply ignored them until they had gone away.

Newton had tried sex. Several times. Both genders. It had been pleasurable. More than that on occasion. With more than one person once or twice, too. Yeah, he was a scientist and he was experimental. He liked sex. He enjoyed the physical aspect, but there had never been a relationship. Not for long anyway. A few dates, dinners, movies, that was it.

Hermann had seen those memories. And Newton wondered what he had made of them.

He wet his lips and the tip of his tongue brushed over Hermann’s finger. The dark eyes were incredibly intense. Brown. Dark, dark brown. Contrasting to the green of Newton’s, looking, searching, quizzical.

The thumb traced his lower lip, then the slender but strong hand cupped his cheek.

Newton leaned into that contact, then let Hermann gently guide him down. Let him determine the pace.

It was a close-mouthed contact, thin, pale lips dry underneath his own chapped ones. So much more than the affectionate kisses of before. So much.

Newton opened his own, probing, careful, mind open and clear with his intent. They might not be telepathic, but the connection was almost empathic in some areas.

Hermann reacted.

Slowly, but with accuracy and determination. And then the kiss deepened, became more intimate, became… intense. Just lip contact and it was intense.

Newt closed his eyes, leaning over the other man, felt an arm around his waist, the hand on his face, and he almost whimpered with the sensation of… rightness.

He kissed. Just kissed. Fingers were now in his hair, carding through the longish strands, and it felt nice.

The kiss ended slowly and Newton pulled away.

When they separated, Hermann looked positively flushed. A bit confused, too. Adorably confused. He gazed at Newton like he was looking for answers to questions he hadn’t really formed yet.

“Now I know how to blow that brilliant brain of yours,” Newton laughed breathlessly.

His mind immediately went off on a tangent. Oh, there was more he wanted to blow. Not just the brain. The brain was sexy, but the rest of the body…

Newton pulled the emergency break, getting way, way ahead of himself. They had just started and maybe he was touch-dependent and probably sex-starved, but Hermann wasn’t him. Hermann was… Hermann.

Slow. Take it slow. It had served them so well up to this point and Newton didn’t want to jinx it.

 

_Slow…_

_I am! I am slow! Gawd, any slower and I’m going backwards!_

_You are currently far from that._

 

The twist to those now reddened lips was almost a smile. In someone’s book of smiles anyway. Newton decided it was in his and leaned down again, brushing their lips together.

And winced.

“Your arm,” Hermann murmured.

“’S fine…”

Gottlieb cupped his cheek, made him look at him. “Lay back.”

“Herm…”

“Lay back. My leg is fine.”

_Mind-reader. Fucking mind-reader._

But he did as Hermann said and it was just as good.

It was the best make-out session in his whole life, including that hot jock in college.

Huh. He was comparing Dr. Hermann Gottlieb to Jake Wissner, hot sports student who he had fumbled with under the bleachers once. Huh indeed.

There were kisses and there was touching, there was warm skin under his hands. Hermann wasn’t the first man he touched, but for the first time it wasn’t just about physical aspects alone. It wasn't just sex. It was exploration, getting to know the other.

“Okay?” he asked, almost holding his breath.

Hermann scowled down at him. “Are you seriously asking me if it is okay for you to kiss me?”

“Uh, yes?”

“After the Drift? After what we keep sensing of each other? After the past months where you spent every night in my bed. With decidedly less clothes lately?”

“Uhm. Yes?”

“After I told you to lay back and kissed you?”

“Kinda?”

“I think I take back my observation about no loss of cognitive brain functions,” was the dry reply.

“I’m serious, Hermann. Are you okay with it?”

“Do you really believe I wouldn’t voice my objections?”

Newton managed a laugh. “No. Not you. You always voice everything.”

The slender fingers were back on his cheek, the thumb brushing over his clean-shaven skin.

“I’m not fragile. I’m not to be bullied into anything. I wouldn’t meekly roll on my back and let you have your wicked way with me, Dr. Geiszler.”

“No?” Newt tried not to make it sound like he was disappointed, but he failed.

It got him a scathing look. “I like this,” Hermann finally said, features softening.

It always took years off him.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Dr. Geiszler.”

“And you like me?”

“And I like you.”

“ _Like me_ like me?”

“What are we? Pre-schoolers on our first date?”

Newton smirked. “This isn’t even a real date. But you like me.” He almost sounded awed. “Cool.” And he was grinning like a loon.

There was a small smile fighting its way onto Hermann’s lips, then the stroking fingers were on Newton’s neck, trailing along the collar of his t-shirt.

“You are a damn tease,” he managed.

“Touch grounds you. Touch evens out the surges. Touch makes you think straight,” Gottlieb listed.

“Not this kind of touch!” he groaned.

The fingers slid into his hair, like always, and Newton exhaled sharply.

Yeah, he felt more grounded. A lot more grounded and in control of his faculties, though right now there was also the hum of what they had started, what new territory they had entered without really thinking about it.

Kaijus weren’t sexual beings. They didn’t reproduce. They were clones. Even the baby hadn’t been conceived in an act guided and pushed by a biological imperative. There hadn’t even been copulation, just cloning. They just needed the reassurance of the hive mind, no matter how young or old, how developed. This… this was very human.

“Newt?”

His eyes flew open and he knew he was staring. Wide-eyed.

“I like this,” Hermann repeated quietly, never stopping the touch.

Then he leaned down and kissed him, their lips meeting in a gentle contact. Newton opened up and heard himself sigh in contentment.

They were compatible.

Because both of them had been rewired in this Drift. They had been connected, had proven to be able to take the strain off of one mind, share it. Hermann did it like he did everything: diligently, anally, professionally. Newton just… did what came instinctively.

He had never seen Hermann Gottlieb without clothes, Newt thought wildly. Even in the past months, while he had been in the same bed, there had been hardly any exposed skin.

But he knew that skin, had been in that skin, had been Hermann, and he knew. Now he wanted to see for real, to touch without the cover of clothing, without taking too many liberties.

“I like it, too,” he finally said.

Hermann smiled and it was adorable. Downright adorable. Gottlieb followed the gentle guidance of the hand against the nape of his neck, kissing Newton softly.

And yeah, making out was fun.

tbc...


	11. Chapter 11

It was all that happened.

Making out.

It was a fucking huge step in their relationship.

Newton was normally not known for taking it slow, but this was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. This was Hermann. This was the man who had Drifted with him, who had been there for him in a way he had never dared to hope, demand or dream.

But Newton felt the warm echoes between them. He knew there was desire. Hermann might not be the most emotional of men, but he had them, those emotions. And he had gotten something out of the neural connections, too.

Right now his emotionally constipated partner was sorting through it all, tried to analyze and understand it, and Newton was happy with just kissing the analytics right out of him.

And he loved it even more when Hermann took charge and reduced his brain to mush.

Not, as Hermann claimed smugly, that it was all too difficult. Newton’s brain was mostly mush anyway.

The owner of the brain in question would have protested in outrage if he hadn’t felt so amazing at being kissed.

“Recharging my batteries,” he teased.

“I believe it is.”

“Seriously?”

“I am very serious.”

“Are you proposing an experiment based on kissing me, Dr. Gottlieb?” Newton exclaimed.

The expression turned a little sour, but the brown eyes reflected amusement. As did the hum between them. Newton caught the wide mouth, kissed him deeply, with abandon.

“I’m all for it,” he mumbled.

“Of course you would be.”

 

* * *

 

As experiments went, it was off to a good start. They had a lot of experience in the kissing area of the whole set-up.

They encountered no problem when Herman drew his hands over Newton’s naked skin, mapped the tattoos.

Hermann was anal about keeping up with their training, despite the fact that they had taken another step in their developing relationship. Judging by how long they had known each other by now – ten years – they were moving at light speed.

So Newton agreed to spend more nights on his own, though he hated it, but it worked. It worked even better after a very long kissing session.

 

* * *

 

The scar on his shoulder looked… oddly out of place. It ran through the yellow swirls and distorted some of them. It was thick and red and there was a dent on one side and a raised ridge on the other. Newton could even tell where the stitches had been.

Standing in front of the mirror in his bathroom, Newton traced the still healing skin. It felt oddly numb, but he knew it would take time to mend the nerves. He would most likely get feeling back.

But the skin was marked. Involuntarily. Forever. Not in ink and with images he had chosen. No, it was a scar.

The laceration on his head looked no better. Red and long and showing stitch marks. It would fade, the doctors had assured him. Probably become a pale line and he would have to comb some hair over it.

Or show it off, the dashing hero, though he hadn’t been wounded in a fight against the Kaiju. It had been his own, stupid brain, exhausted, yearning for Hermann, being a dick. Newton almost snorted. Yeah. A dick.

“There you are.”

He smiled at Hermann, who had appeared behind him. His fingers were still on the scar, covering it.

Hermann frowned a little and limped closer. His hand came to rest against Newton’s bare back and it was immediately grounding, calming, taking the whirling thoughts and channeling them.

“Newt?”

The question was soft, using his nick-name, and the hand on his back was distracting. Newton turned away from the mirror, felt Hermann’s arm wrap around his waist, pulling him close.

Into a kiss.

Lips brushing over his, his neck, then Hermann bowed his head and kissed the scar.

It was so intimate, so new, Newton froze and gasped involuntarily. There was a surge of emotions rising between them and he closed his eyes, fingers curling around Hermann’s upper arms, clinging to him to ground himself. It was incredible, this feeling, this sensation of acceptance and warmth and affection and so many, many soft emotions.

“It’s not a disfigurement,” Hermann whispered, lips against his ear. “You survived this. I’m very glad you did.”

“Oh, so am I. Really. Dying isn’t my plan in the near future. Not cool. Really not cool,” Newton blurted.

He was still clutching at Hermann, fingers curled into the fabric of the v-neck sweater the other man was wearing.

Hermann let him.

Kissing him.

Newton kissed back.

Half naked in his bathroom, just kissing, enjoying the balancing effect his colleague had on him, enjoying the physical closeness, the warmth.

 

* * *

 

Q shot him those knowing looks when they were in the lab together. Mostly the Brit was there to go over calculations with Hermann, but he always went over to Newt’s side of the still divided lab, and both chatted.

“What?” Newton asked over a half dissected piece of Kaiju tongue.

Q’s smile grew.

He refused to blush or give anything away, but damn the pilot, he knew! Curse of being connected to his team mate and co-pilot, Newton guessed. Q was very sharp, picked up on little clues, and since they had become fast friends, it wasn’t so hard to spot the difference between a Newton who simply cuddled up to Hermann Gottlieb and a Newton who had gotten more with Hermann Gottlieb.

“So,” Q simply said.

Newton glared at him and turned back to his tongue piece. “Nothing happened.”

“I believe it did.”

“Then you believe wrong.”

Q laughed softly, shaking his head. “I didn’t say you christened the bed, Newt. I only said you took another step.”

The glare intensified, then Newton sighed. “What’s it to you? Got a bet going?”

“Oh, there are several going, all around the Shatterdome. Some include you and Dr. Gottlieb. Some Raleigh and Chuck.”

Newton snorted.

“Skyfall’s test runs have cleared us for an ocean floor Drop,” the former quartermaster said, casually switching the topic.

“Really? When?” Newton felt excitement shoot through him.

“Tomorrow morning. Seven a.m. sharp. The Marshall wants us down there and take a first stroll.”

Okay, now he was envious. Hermann’s eyes were narrowed and he was listening in, even though he pretended not to.

“Epic is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. It’ll be Raleigh and Chuck’s first Drift under real conditions.”

“I wish I could come along,” Newton whined.

Q chuckled. “Not yet, but Herc told us there are plans to take scientists down there.”

“Not scientists. Me! I’m on top of that list and I’m going to kick anyone’s ass out of that Conn-Pod if they take my place!” he declared hotly.

“Good god!” Hermann exclaimed. “You are worse than a child, Dr. Geiszler! You are a reputable scientist, the chief of Kaiju research and renowned in your field! Please show some dignity!”

Newton beamed at his colleague. “Praise from you, Hermann?” he crooned. “I need to get my ears checked.”

“I’d rather you have your brain checked,” was the growled reply, then Hermann limped over to one of his models.

“He loves me,” Newton only said, still smiling.

“I never doubted it,” Q replied. “And you already have a ticket to Skyfall, unless you want to switch over to Epic.”

“Oh no! I’m fine with Skyfall. Love her. A lot. Are you getting seats installed or how does it work?”

“The engineers are currently tackling that problem.”

“A child seat would be fitting,” came the snark from across the lab. “With a safety harness and a toy to keep him busy!”

Q laughed softly, shaking his head. “I have a Kwoon date,” he told Newton. “I’ll drop by tomorrow after the first Drop if I can, let you know how it went.”

“I’ll be there. For the Drop. And the whole mission. And of course I’ll be here, too,” Newton said, excitement rattling through him.

Q laughed. “See you then, Newt. Dr. Gottlieb.”

With that he was gone.

Newton was grinning like a loon, beaming brightly at Hermann, who simply scowled at him. But there was a tiny little smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

 

 

Newton was in a bouncy good mood for the rest of the day, much to Hermann’s vocal annoyance.

 

* * *

 

It had taken him this long to finally get Hermann to watch a monster movie with him. A classic. One his uncle had always watched with his nephew when Newt was still a kid.

“You still are a kid.”

“Just shut up and enjoy the movie, Herm!”

Of course, halfway through this epic classic – Newton’s own words – he had to give in to the overpowering drive to make out with Hermann. And of course Hermann saw it as a good excuse not to watch monsters fight among each other over who got to destroy a human city this week.

It was a relaxed atmosphere, Newton's hands playing over the slender body, slipping underneath the shirt and caressing skin. Hermann didn't protest. Newton’s chin rested on the dark hair. He experimentally nuzzled one temple and Hermann moved his head a little, Newt's lips sliding down to nibble at the exposed throat.

Bolder, listening to the sensations wafting between them, he continued his ministrations and he was rewarded with a soft, encouraging noise.

Hermann would probably deny making it to the very end.

It was almost like a dance, their movements slow and sensual. The dance ended with Gottlieb on his back, deep brown eyes looking up at him, the face relaxed, inviting, no visible hesitation. Newton leaned down and caught the lips in an affectionate kiss. When the other answered it, opened up, he deepened it more and more. His tongue slipped into the warmth of Hermann's mouth and he felt arms come up around him. Fingers clenched into his t-shirt, holding on.

He pulled back a little, studying the so well-known features. They had been at this point countless times before, but Hermann had always pulled away after a while. Mentally and physically, as if it had been a little bit too much to process.

Not scared. Hesitant, but not scared of what else might come.

“Herm?” he murmured.

“Don’t call me that.”

Oh, how he adored that man.

A hand cupped his face, the thumb caressing his skin. Hermann smiled slightly, almost shyly, then drew him down again.

The kiss was long and slow, not leading to a sexual encounter, and finally Newton leaned against the other man, exhaling slowly.

He felt the hum of what was between them. It was never silent, but in the last few hours it had been clamoring at him to be with his Drift partner.

Right now it was good to feel this, to feel this man with him, kissing and being kissed.

Brown eyes displayed more than he wanted to read in them and he dared Hermann to speak, but the other man was silent. He wrapped a hand around Newton's neck, cupping his head, and pulled him into a new kiss, this one almost chaste.

Newton felt it. It was clear to him. There was no hiding what came across the permanent connection.

Hermann was in a cuddly mood and sought closeness, either by sliding a hand under Newton's shirt or nuzzling a path down his neck.

There was a surge of outrage at the comparison. Gottlieb hated to be called cuddly or adorable or handsome. Especially handsome.

Right now his eyes were closed, his face was half hidden in Newton's chest, and his hand was still resting comfortably underneath the black t-shirt with the garish Kaiju print.

On bare skin.

Newton wanted physical touch and Hermann was very willing to give it.

Not in the lab. Never anywhere in public. It was all in the privacy of their shared quarters. Newton knew that the suggestion to lock up the lab and make out had fallen on deaf ears. Actually, the death glare had been… ridiculously amusing.

The whole thing went seriously FUBAR, for lack of a better word, when the touch became a lot more intimate. Like down south intimate. Like Hermann brushing over this sensitive area Newton had been hoping for to get touched.

He felt something race across him, hot and heavy, taking out every thought, whiting out his brain, his whole body locking up in a surge so powerful, he barely even managed to gasp.

Well, maybe it was a little cry or a sob or a mixture of both. He didn’t know. All he knew was that he flailed for his safety net, needed that cool, calming touch, and when he found it, he clung to Hermann like a drowning man.

Gasping like he had run a marathon.

And…

Embarrassment flooded through him.

“Newton.”

He was trembling, the touch wanted, needed, but the shame…

“Newt.”

He almost laughed. Hermann was using his preferred nick-name.

The fingers were in his hair, scratching lightly, running over his neck, the soothing caress Newton reacted almost automatically to by now.

“I expected it.”

That had his head shoot up. He stared at Hermann bug-eyed, mouth opening and closing.

“You… you what?”

“You are touch-sensitive, Newton. My touch. Your brain translates it into surges. This was more… intense than just kissing or running my hands through your hair, or your arms and back.”

“Uh. Yeah. Kinda.”

Because he had come. He had come from a few caresses, kisses and touches, because his brain had chosen to fling itself full force into a feedback loop.

Hermann’s smile was almost… lop-sided. Newton’s eyes narrowed.

“You! You…!”

It got him a chuckle. It was a noise that was as enjoyable as the idea that Hermann Gottlieb had experimented with sex was.

“I hate you!” Newton groaned, feeling sticky, embarrassed and also a bit lethargic at the moment.

“You don’t,” was the calm reply. “We also know now that you are very much receptive to feedback.”

“Hate you,” Newton repeated, voice muffled against Hermann’s shoulder. “So much.”

The kiss against his head had him shiver. Damn echoes. Damn feedback. Just damn.

“If this happens because of a simple touch,” he finally grumbled into the pajama-clad shoulder, “this will be very embarrassing every single time.”

“It always takes two, Dr. Geiszler.”

He raised his head and looked into the clear brown eyes. “Huh?”

“Your brain is the more receptive.” Long fingers stroked over one temple. “It’s as tactile as you. It feeds off our encounters. I counter-balance it. That is my role. So it’s a matter of balancing the input you feel, sharing the load.”

“Are you using Drift analogies for sex?! What did we do? Have a neural handshake with our dicks? You got me off with one touch, Herm!”

“As I just said, we have to work on that. Our brains have been rewired. The damage you did to yourself is more extensive, so we need to adjust.”

“Oh gawd, I really, really hate you,” Newton whined and closed his eyes. “I need to relearn sex.”

“Yes, Dr. Geiszler, you do.”

The kiss was unexpectedly soft, a brushing of lips against lips, a gentle coaxing of a tongue asking him to open up, which he did.

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t actually _depressed_ or _moping_ over the fact that Hermann could get him off with a few strokes. Not even half a dozen. Less than that.

Fuck.

Newton was a scientist, a biologist with several degrees and then some, and he knew about nerve cells and skin reaction and hypersensitivity, which he didn’t have! He wasn’t hypersensitive! He had a brain that was all screwed up and had probably rewired itself in very strange new ways after two Drifts, but he wasn’t sensitive!

Q’s opinion was clearly in his eyes. The pilot was openly amused, not even trying to hide it, and Newton hated him. He hated Bond even more, who was laughing into his coffee.

“It’s not funny!” he snapped.

“No, it isn’t. But it’s amusing,” James told him, the glacially blue eyes warm and alight with humor. “I’ll leave you two to discussing our sex life. I have a meeting with Herc.”

And with that he was gone.

“I’m not discussing anyone’s sex life!” Newton growled.

“Neither am I.”

Q’s mug was filled with Earl Grey and he was eating a scone – wherever he had gotten that from. Newton had opted for a caffeinated cold drink. Caffeine was good. Caffeine was your friend.

“Why me?” he sighed theatrically. “I mean, nothing against a good orgasm, but not like that!”

“I thought we weren’t going to discuss anyone’s sex life,” Q pointed out mildly.

“I like Hermann. I really do. And he’s done a lot for me already. And I know he likes me too,” Newton rambled on. “Maybe even loves me. I know I do. A lot. Who wouldn’t be in love with that brain? And once you get past the prickly, stuffy, my-grandfather-dressed-more-modern exterior, he’s adorable. Okay, so he’s always adorable.”

He stopped the rambling when he caught Q’s laughing eyes and groaned.

“You have it bad, Newt.”

“I got it bad,” he agreed.

“All you have to do is work out how to desensitize your brain. I believe it will in time.”

“Hermann said the same.”

“He is a very wise man,” Q agreed.

He was trying for sage and failing since he was still laughing. His eyes anyway. He was laughing with his eyes.

“Good plan. And might I point out that it involves a very good time for both of you.”

Q raised his eyebrows over his mug, then took a sip.

“Yeah, well, there’s that.”

Q smirked.

“You two don’t have that problem, huh?” Newton asked.

“Very good times?” the pilot teased.

Newton groaned. “You’re bad.”

“I know. I also know what you are asking, Newton. No, James and I never had a feedback loop or any kind of touch-related incidents that come close to what you experience. It’s the hive mind. James and I Ghost together. It makes for interesting encounters…”

Newton held up a hand, stopping him. “Nope, not interested. Then again, maybe, if I was a pervert, which I’m not. Anyway, I’m not. I don’t want to know. You’re not a freak like me, so happy you.” He morosely poked at a packet of sugar.

“You are not a freak, Newt. You do the crazy scientist well. You are an eccentric. You have a reputation. But you’re not a freak.”

Newton just gave him a frown.

“You Drifted with a Kaiju brain. You saved the world, risking your own life, like we all did. We went out in a giant exoskeleton, hitting stuff and shooting Kaijus to pieces. We all have aftereffects to deal with. James and I still Ghost, stronger after a Drop and a few hours on the bottom of the ocean. But it never goes away completely.”

“I’m not exactly Ghosting when it comes to Hermann. It’s more like… an awareness. And sometimes these weird… flashes… Like I know what he’s saying but he isn’t. And the touch is…” Newton stopped, then said softly, “grounding. Like he is grounding. When everything goes off on a wild tangent, when the chaos in my brain is overwhelming… he’s there. No idea how he does it. I just feel so useless in it all because I do nothing but take.”

“Are you sure?”

Newton frowned.

“Dr. Gottlieb has changed with you, Newt. I should know. We work together regularly, either on the Breach model, his theorems, or the Jaeger programming. He has grown a little less stiff. He hasn’t really softened, but he seems to allow for a more unorthodox approach to some of his equations. Like you have structured your work a little. You’re still you, Newt, but his influence over the hive bond is visible. And vice versa.”

“Oh.” Newton fidgeted a little. “Yeah.”

He had noticed how he calmed down around Hermann when the connection between them flared to life with Hermann’s presence. It was an uncanny way to soothe his wildly firing thoughts, channel them, guide them. And yes, Hermann was… more open. To anyone who didn’t know him it wasn’t obvious how relaxed the mathematician suddenly was. How he reacted toward others invading his work space.

Yeah, sure, he glared them into submission, bit their heads off if they gave him crappy equations or hadn’t listened to him before, bringing back the wrong results. But he was… huh, people person might be taking it a bit far, but he did people interaction now. He talked to other human beings. It was a big thing. A really big thing.

“I’m just the more affected,” Newton murmured.

“And Dr. Gottlieb buffers, is something like your conduit. Think about it, Newt: if the two of you had been affected the same, if Dr. Gottlieb was as sensitive to the effects as you are.”

“We’d implode.”

“Exactly.”

“So… everything’s worked out fine.”

“It will in the end. You just have to work with what you have and make the best of it for now,” Q said, smiling. “And training this kind of touch sensitivity sounds like fun.” He winked.

Newton groaned and shot him an evil look.

 

tbc...


	12. Chapter 12

It took a while for Newton to be brave enough to try again. On one side he was all for it, completely gung-ho, to try another mind-blowing orgasm at the hands of Dr. Hermann Gottlieb. On the other… there was the embarrassment. Actually, the embarrassment had kept him from pursuing anything but the sleeping arrangements. Even kissing had been reduced to a brush of lips.

Until Hermann had given him an earful about his unscientific behavior.

It wasn’t unscientific! It was simply highly embarrassing to come because of one touch! One. Touch!

“And don’t you dare say that you’re just that good!” he had yelled at Herman.

Gottlieb had simply given him a rather smug smile, then he had gone back to work.

Oh, he hated that man!

Hated, hated, hated!

 

 

“You don’t,” Hermann said that night, kissing him.

Newton looked up into the narrow face, those familiar eyes, delighted to see the teasing humor that so rarely made it to the surface.

“I do,” he answered, though without conviction or vigor.

Oh, Hermann was a good kisser. All those repeat performances had paid off. He was a truly quick learner.

He had also taken over the initiative since Newton refused to be an adult and work through this on a more grown-up level. Maybe even a scientific one. Right now he felt more like pouting and whining, though.

“Do you want to repeat the experiment?” Hermann asked.

“Uhm, sure…”

Repeat the good times? Yes! Hell yes! Newton was a red-blooded man with a healthy sex drive. He was simply on a hair trigger, much to his shame and chagrin.

Slender hands slid under his sleep shirt – artsy kind of Kaiju against a backdrop that could be anything from a landscape to a skyline; hand-painted original, had cost a small fortune -- racking it up a little. Then it was off. The tattoos were bright against the pristine white sheets of Hermann’s anally made bed. A bed he intended to mess up thoroughly one day; the moment he had his brain under control.

So… not really soon.

Sure, there would be a mess, but it would be him and him alone. There would be no fun times, no rolling around, just Newton Geiszler shooting off like an early starter in a race. And gawd! Someone please stop his brain?

From the smile on Hermann’s face, his partner was very much aware of the whirling emotions, the runaway brain. There was a calming caress over his mind, untangling the chaotic thoughts, humming softly.

 

_We’ll be okay._

_At least someone has faith._

_I always had faith in you, Newton._

 

Newton felt a moment of breathlessness. The thoughts-emotions-images were clear. That faith was clear. That trust and understanding, laced with affection and worry, now tangled up with the new emotion, with love.

 

_I…_

 

Hermann kissed him, their minds sliding together.

He remembered it from their Drift. Hermann had come with him, believing in their compatibility, believing in Newton, believing in that cobbled-together-from-garbage Pons mechanism.

He had believed.

And he had trusted.

Hermann’s fingers following the lines of the Kaiju depicted on his chest were distracting. And grounding. So very, very grounding.

Newton felt his mind quiet down, the racing thoughts more focused. And he felt Hermann’s focus, sharp, singular, only on him, as if he was trying to analyze every square inch of skin he touched. The dark eyes were on his face, watching, keeping track, so very much the anal scientist he knew and loved.

Another kiss had him off-track in a second and he clutched at the flannel material, silently lamenting the fact that his partner was still dressed.

“Clothes off,” he finally verbalized.

It echoed across the connection, which had never been more open, wide, wide open, and humming. It was a kind of static electricity, a thunderstorm on the horizon, both their minds synching.

“Oh my. If just this has already killed most of your brain, I fear for what happens when we take it to the next level,” was the snide remark.

But Hermann’s eyes were dancing with humor, his face so very open, relaxed, teasing.

It was a good look on him. A very good look. One only Newton got to enjoy.

Damn, he had fallen so hard for this man. Years ago, probably. Without realizing it was so much more, actually. How else could one explain working with Dr. Hermann Gottlieb for a decade, biting and snarking and snapping and bitching every day, and not request for a transfer. No amount of Kaijus could make up for social interaction.

 

_I love you. I probably did for a while._

 

He saw the answer in the brown eyes, felt it over the intense connection.

“Hm, good brain kill,” Newton mumbled out loud. “Very good.”

He tried to concentrate on the hands and almost yelled in surprise when Hermann lightly bit his chin, then the skin of his neck.

“Kinky! Herm, I’m so proud!” he gasped.

And then those hands were sliding under his boxers.

Slow.

Careful.

Not trying to rush this again, not pushing, getting him used to the touch.

Newton screwed his eyes shut, because if he looked at Hermann, looked at where he was touching, it would be over.

Hermann -- bless him, love you so much -- kissed him, distracting him from where those nimble fingers explored soft, uninked skin. There were some areas even Newton Geiszler was chicken to let anyone with a needle get too close to.

Remembering he had hands, too, Newton let his fingers run over Hermann’s sides, wriggling under the pajama top, touching warm, smooth skin.

The touch grew more insistent.

The kisses really weren’t distracting from that, especially with the teeth..

…making him sob and arch with the rush of sensation. Crying out with liquid fire consuming nerve endings, molten lava running down his spine, and more, even more, and,

“Fuck it!” Newton cried, the trigger going off like fireworks.

He was shaking when he came back to the sensation of Hermann riding out the explosion of emotions with him. He felt the tight control, reining him, holding him. The other mind was cool, a pleasant sensation to be with, and Newton let out a soft whine.

“Fuck,” he mumbled again.

“You lasted longer.”

“Point two seconds.”

“I’d say at least a minute, but I didn’t have a watch with me.”

Newton glared at him. “Not. Helping.”

Hermann’s fingers were still in a rather delicate area, curling around the semi-hard, slick evidence. Newton shivered a little, but there was no second feedback loop. Nothing but the touch of skin against skin, slick with his first climax, and Hermann was moving them at a leisurely pace.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Desensitizing you, Dr. Geiszler.”

“That’s what you’re calling this?” He almost squeaked those last words. “Who are you and what happened to Dr. Gottlieb?”

Hermann settled down beside him, the teasing hand stroking over his lower abdomen, sometimes over his still interested dick. It should be disgusting, but Newton couldn’t bring himself to care that he was sticky, mostly because Hermann, the most fastidious and anal man he had the pleasure of knowing, didn’t mind at all.

“And now you’re stopping?!”

Hermann smiled a little. “I doubt a second overload would be good for your brain.”

“I don’t care about my brain!”

“I noticed that the first time you Drifted with a Kaiju.”

“I really, really hate you,” Newton grumbled, but he curled a hand around Hermann’s neck and kissed him. “Really.”

“I know.”

In the end, Hermann wiped off the stickiness on Newton’s shirt, which had him protest faintly, but somehow he also didn’t care.

A shower was a nice thought, though.

Later.

Much later.

When he didn’t feel like a limp noodle.

 

 

Newton quieted down rather quickly and when his brain finally functioned normally again, he pushed himself up and looked at the man at his side.

“You.”

Hermann raised an eyebrow. “I see it truly was too overwhelming. You are reduced to one word statements of the obvious.”

“What about you?” Newton blurted. “I mean, you do sex, right? I mean, I know you did. I was there. Well, not _there_ there. Then again, yes, I was. As you. Because I was you because of the Drift.”

Rambling mode switched on full. Damn.

“What is your point?”

“I feel like a shit, getting off, and you just… buffer.”

Hermann’s lips curled into one of those adorably condescending smiles. “I mentioned before that I won’t be bullied into this, nor will I simply lay back and think of England. It also usually takes me longer than a minute to get to a state where climax can be reached. I’m not seventeen anymore, Dr. Geiszler.”

Newton glared, but it was without real heat. He tilted his head, glancing down the fully clothed form.

“And you never take your clothes off.” Now he was almost petulant.

“There was no need.”

That sounded like Newt was a little shit, getting his own pleasure without regard for his partner. Yes, Hermann didn’t mean it that way. No, he would never imply such a thing. And from what he caught of the emotions-thoughts-memories drifting between them, Hermann was calling him all kinds of uncomplimentary things for even thinking such things.

Newton groaned and slumped over Hermann in a controlled collapse. He buried his face against the damp neck.

“You’re killing me, Herm.”

“No, I’m not.”

He rolled off, sighing. “A minute, hm?”

“Possible eighty-five seconds.”

Newton huffed. "Love you, too."

There were a million emotions humming between them, one very clearly written on Hermann’s face.

He wanted so much, Newton thought. He wanted so, so much. All of it. Never let go. Even if this was all they would be able to have, these embarrassingly fast moments, he wouldn’t want anyone else.

 

_It will get better._

_Our new motto, huh?_

 

Hermann pulled him close. Newton went easily, sighing softly as he let the other man push him into a more comfortable position for both of them. He was still plastered to the other man, still had his face mashed into the fabric of the pajama top. His favorite place to be. Cuddling with Hermann was on top of his list, beating even hip-deep-in Kaiju-parts.

“I’m honored,” Hermann grunted.

“Caught that, hm?” he replied sleepily.

“Hard to miss.”

Newton raised himself enough to bestow a soft kiss on those thinning lips. “Love you more than a Kaiju, Herm. A lot.”

“For that I am very glad,” came the reply, Hermann’s brows rising a little.

“No contest at all,” Newt added, smiling more at the slight curl of a smile on his partner’s lips.

No words were exchanged after that, but the emotions flowing through the link were clear.

 

*

 

As experiments and their results went, it had been a good first start. Especially since Hermann believed in diligently pursuing a successful road.

Newton was all for it, even if the eighty-five seconds were embarrassing. They would have been embarrassing for a sixteen-year-old wanking off to internet porn!

 

 

What never happened was Hermann getting naked. Newton had never seen him getting changed into his pajamas, or under the shower, or out of the shower. The man was always, always!, dressed.

The biggest concession to undressing had been unbuttoning the pajama top.

Newton didn’t mind being the specimen in their experiments, but he wondered who Hermann thought he was fooling. They had fucking Drifted! He knew that man as well as he knew himself! He had lived through parts of his life!

And he liked that body, flaws and all. His own had enough to begin with. Hermann was more slender, he was paler, he had a bad leg, but who cared? That brain was pure sex to begin with. Newton loved that brain and the body was simply a plus. There was nothing wrong with it.

He had been allowed touch already, weeks ago, feeling the bow of the ribs, the flutter of the flat stomach, the bones of one hip. He had kissed the V of Hermann’s neck, had been allowed to open a few buttons, and he had enjoyed the view.

Newton wanted more.

But he could be patient.

Especially since Hermann easily deterred him from his goal by underhanded tactics, like curling his hand around Newton’s very interested dick and having him come in a flash of bright lights and sensations.

It wasn’t really fair play.

Oh, but he enjoyed the orgasms anyway.

 

*

 

It took about a week of diligent experiments and retrials until Newton could last longer than eighty-five seconds. Actually, he almost came because he was watching Hermann’s fingers on his dick, not from the sensation they created. And the concentration on that narrow face, the tongue licking over his lower lip, the heat in those dark eyes when Hermann looked up…

Newton’s very agile, active and downright dirty mind wanted to see that mouth around his dick, though he doubted he would even hit eighty-five seconds if that became reality!

_Gawd, I’ve got it so, so bad!_

“I want to see you naked when we come,” he breathed, just before he couldn’t stop himself, came with a groan of relief, while his partner kept pumping him.

The time he was a totally blissed-out mess had shortened considerably and Newton curled his hand around the one still playing with him.

Hm, Hermann was always playful.

He enjoyed that.

“I mean it, Herm. I want us, together, coming together. Naked. And I want to bring you off. This has been way too one-sided.”

Gottlieb looked at him, face slightly more pale than usual.

“Hermann? Talk to me, dude. It’s okay, right? I know twice with another human being isn’t much, but you know sex. It’ll be fun. And I really, really want to touch you.” The last was almost a whine-plea-wish.

“Yes,” Hermann said, voice sounding a little forced.

Newton watched the conflicting emotions chase each other, felt it in the echoes between them, and he entwined their thoughts, careful, gentle, cautiously wrapping himself around the other man physically as well as mentally.

Hermann let him.

“I want you so badly,” he whispered into the pale skin. “And I want so much. You’ve got no idea, Herm, no idea.”

Fingers carded into his hair, tugging gently, and he followed the guidance to kiss his partner.

“I think I do,” Hermann finally said.

“And still you wank off in the bathroom.”

The narrow features flushed and Newton found it adorable. He smiled and kissed him again.

“That has to stop, Dr. Gottlieb.”

“I… concur.”

“Hm, let’s start some new training lessons then. You let me see you naked, touch you, bring you off.”

“I think that can be arranged,” was the faintly breathy reply.

Newton felt like having a minor victory dance now.

But not right now. Right now he wanted to close his eyes, enjoy his still persisting high.

Cuddles and kisses.

Yeah, that sounded about right.

So he did.

 

* * *

 

Further pursuit of Getting Hermann Naked was interrupted by the first full deployment of Skyfall and Epic to the bottom of the ocean, heading for the location of the collapsed Breach.

Newton literally made up home in the LOCCENT and Tendo just shot him looks of annoyance.

Herc’s expression was a mixture of exasperation and fond acceptance.

No one kicked him out.

Actually, he spent the whole fifteen hours in there that it took both Jaegers until they arrived safely back in the Shatterdome. Someone brought him food, which he devoured while he was glued to the screen.

The moment Skyfall and Epic were back, Newton bounced out of LOCCENT, heading toward his lab where all the data gathered, including a ton of samples, would soon be.

 

 

He and the minions were busy for almost a week before he could think of breathing again, surfacing from his work, and discovering how much time had really passed.

There had been so, so many samples! Not all of them inorganic or just computer data. There had been pieces from Scunner, Slattern and Raiju! Not even the deep sea creatures had tried to eat the Kaijus’ flesh off their carcasses. Slattern had forever disappeared down the Breach’s Throat. The others lay where they had fallen.

Newton had salivated over the video data, the scans, the samples. It had been heaven. Heaven!

He had set all available minions to work and they were readily at his beck and call, doing whatever their boss wanted. For them, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Newton had been hip-deep in everything, bouncing around the lab, making as much room for the samples as he could, had a squealing moment over a section of Scunner’s tail, and then he hadn’t left the bio-labs for two days.

 

*

 

Hermann’s expression was smug, an I-told-you-so clear on his normally so stern features.

Newton had made it a week without needing the grounding touch at night. A week where he had worked his ass off, slept on the couch in the lab, showered in the biohazard labs, and lived off food someone brought him. Not to mention gallons of coffee.

But: Kaiju pieces! From the Triple Event! Dude!

Sure, they were all clones, but category-5s didn’t just crawl out of the Breach every day! Okay, so it had been only this one and there would hopefully never be another, but hey! Category-5 pieces!

His mind was firing on all cylinders and then some. His minions had been up to their eyebrows and above in work, had dissected pieces, preserved interesting bits, which meant each and every one, and Newton had been in heaven. Heaven!

If there had been any complaints about hazardous material making its way into the think tank of Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, Newton had heard none. He wouldn’t have heard them no matter what. His one concession to lab peace were ear phones, so he had them on while playing his rock music.

Hermann and his underlings had been swooning over the Breach readings and whenever Newton had allowed his eyes to stray, he had seen his colleague either playing with his 3-D rendition or writing complicated, out of this world formulae onto the blackboard, his assistants in awed attendance.

 

 

Still, the moment Hermann touched him, slender fingers caressing his stubbled cheek, it felt like an explosion of sensations across his mind. The grounding effect was immediate. His brain quieted down and his thoughts seemed to slow to normal speed.

“Uh, hi,” he stuttered.

Around him the research department was quiet. Semi-dark. He was alone in the bio-lab section. He saw people in the still lit-up area further down, all across the shared lab space.

“I believe it’s time for you to get some real sleep. You are keeping me up at night.”

“Huh?”

Hermann leaned in, lips quirking a little. “I miss you, Newton Geiszler. In bed.”

Oh. Wow. That was…

“Wow,” he murmured.

“Come on, Dr. Geiszler. Let’s get you to bed.”

A hand was on his back, soothing, gentle, so familiar in the way it touched him.

“Love those words coming out of your mouth, Herm!” He grinned.

“Work environment. It’s Dr. Gottlieb.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

 

 

Actually, sleep sounded like a grand idea. A really grand idea.

Hermann was at his side the whole way to his quarters. His brain was shutting down one synapse at a time, and when he was finally in his bedroom, he had no idea how he had gotten there.

 

 

And then he woke up and his head felt a lot clearer.

Wow, he must have dropped off like a stone.

And wow, it was already four in the afternoon. Holy fucking Christ, he had slept nearly twelve hours straight!

Hermann was nowhere to be found, so Newt showered, went to the mess hall, found a sandwich that looked edible, and washed it down with a can of Coke.

When he entered the lab, he found his missing colleague, diligently configuring his Breach model, working off the collected data.

“Uh, hey,” he said and placed a mug of coffee in front of Hermann.

It was almost like a peace offering, though he had no recollection of a fight. Maybe it was more like a thank you note in liquid, caffeinated form.

“Good afternoon. Did you sleep well?”

He scratched his unruly hair, still slightly damp and as always sticking up all over the place. He might have forgotten to shave, too. His stubble didn’t look too bad – wasn’t even close to rivaling Herc’s on his worst days – and he looked more scruffy and rockstar-ish. Yes, that was a word. It was a synonym for Newton.

Hermann’s slightly raised eyebrows told him that the other man was clearly, very clearly, aware of his thoughts and emotions, and maybe he might just agree a little.

“Yes. Thanks.”

“I would suggest you take the rest of the day off as well. Your assistants have done acceptable work so far and they will do so while you rest up some more.”

Newt waggled his eyebrows. “How about some company resting up?”

“You shouldn’t ingest too many caffeinated drinks, Dr. Geiszler. They are bad for your health.”

“So, when do you clock off?”

“When I’m done.”

“And that will be?” he wheedled.

“Go. Away.”

“Aw, Hermann…”

“Dr. Gottlieb!”

Newton leaned in close. “Love you, too. See you later.”

And with that he was gone again, warmth blossoming briefly across their link, clearly coming from Hermann. It was an intense burst, there and gone again, but it was like a hug. He loved it. He adored it. Just like the man himself.

tbc...


	13. Chapter 13

“Hey there, little fella.”

Newton grimaced, but he had long since given up on trying to get Hannibal Chau to call him Newt or Newton, let alone any other variation of his given name. And compared to Chau he really was a little man. Well, he wasn’t the tallest man in the room most of the time; even Hermann was four inches taller. And all the pilots, too.

Newton didn’t let that fact get him down; he never had.

“You came for the latest goods?” Chau asked, flashing gold-capped teeth.

The man was all flamboyancy and gold on display. Today was dark blue day. Dark blue, silky looking suit, a silver vest, a dark blue shirt and the habitual gold-plated shoes. There were rings on his fingers, all gold, as was the thick necklace around his neck. It looked stylish in a way Newton knew he would never be able to pull off. And on anyone else it might look ridiculous, but Chau wasn’t a man to look ridiculous in anything.

“Yeah. Couldn’t wait to take a look at kidney parts.”

“Kidney, bladder and some bone marrow.”

“Dude! That’s great! It’s not processed, right?” Newton asked, brows dipping down a little.

Hannibal chuckled. “No. I know what my clients want. For you, unprocessed, untreated, cut surgically from the whole. I’ll throw in two parasites, alive, because of your bonus points status.”

Newton was all smiles, which grew when Chau showed him the items. The skin mites were alive and kicking, sitting almost forlorn in the glass cylinders. He had always wanted one and two were incredible! Hermann would probably pitch a fit, but hey, it was his lab, too.

“So how’s that crazy brain of yours, kid?”

Newton looked up from his study of the parasites. “Huh? What about my brain?”

“Two Drifts with a Kaiju brain? Don’t know many men who attempted that, and survived. Actually,” Hannibal drawled, “I know only one. You’re also about the only one who would think about it, try it once, then do it again and take a friend along for the ride.”

“I’m fine. Really. Nothing that didn’t heal.”

“Aside from possible brain damage.”

His head came up again and he narrowed his eyes at the taller man.

“Everyone knows that even Jaeger pilots end up with brain damage when they go into a Drift that ends badly. Becket’s the prime example.”

“Raleigh isn’t…”

“He is. Got part of him torn out. And his brother with it.”

Newton glared at the taller man. He had no idea why exactly. Raleigh was a friend and to imply he had brain damage…? It felt wrong. Sure, he might just have, but calling it that made it sound like he was mentally unstable or something. And to call Newton brain damaged... was actually the truth, he had to grudgingly confess.

His brain was no longer as it had been before. He had rewired himself, which meant damage.

“You and that Kaiju brain?” Hannibal said, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Ended badly.”

“No, it didn’t. I’m fine.”

There was no way to gauge Hannibal’s thoughts because of the dark glasses, but he could see the twist of his lips. The man didn’t believe him, but Newton refused to spill anything on what had really happened. That was very personal, very private, too intimate.

“The eye’s okay,” he agreed. “No nosebleeds, right?”

Newton frowned at him, fighting not to nod or somehow confirm it. Still, he probably did. Chau could read him like an open book. It irked him.

“But something happened. How’s that co-pilot of yours?” he asked innocently, though the flash of teeth was anything but innocent.

“We weren’t co-piloting. We didn’t jockey a Jaeger or anything.”

“You only piloted a Kaiju brain.”

“Why is this your concern again?” Newton challenged, feeling a bit more pissed off now. It might not be in his best interest to alienate their sole supplier of Kaiju parts, but right now it was heading down a road where Newton would probably do it and to hell with the consequences.

Chau snorted. It sounded almost like a laugh, then he clamped a big hand on Newton’s shoulder and steered him over to the merchandize.

“Business,” he only said.

It was like a silent agreement to let matters rest for now.

So now it was time to talk transportation. The ‘donation’ of the PPDC to Kaiju Remedies had already been handled by Herc.

 

 

He went for a snack again. He couldn’t help it. He loved the little corner store and the specials were simply amazing. Newton also wanted to stock up on snacky snacks, which usually had Hermann roll his eyes and mutter something about not knowing where that stuff came from. Then again, who knew where their mess hall food came from?

His shadow, the leather-clad henchwoman, was there again and he gave her a brilliant smile as she joined him.

“Can I treat you to lunch?” Newton asked.

Her smile was all teeth, but it was more friendly than feral.

So lunch it was.

“Is this going to be a regular gig?” he asked between two bites of noodles-and-something-really-deliciously-spicy.

“My orders are very clear.”

“Just so you know, I’m already taken.”

She snorted.

“Hey!” Newton protested automatically. “I’m a catch!”

“I am sure you are, Dr. Geiszler. I am not interested in a closer relationship. You are my assignment.”

“Just so we’re sure,” he agreed.

“Oh, believe me. I am very sure. Your partner has nothing to fear. I doubt you are someone to stray.”

He frowned a little at her comment, then caught her amusement. He glared, not even really angry, just a little pissed.

“Since we’re going to hang out a lot, don’t you think I should know your name?” Newton asked off-handedly.

She tilted her head. “No.”

Okay. No. He could work with that. He could give her a name in his head. Leathergirl? Leatherwoman? Thugess? Hanna?

Oh! Yep, that worked. Hanna. Hanna it was. She would probably kill him if she ever heard Newton call her Hanna, but that was life.

 

 

Buying his snacks and sweets, he caught her presence, as well as that of two more bodyguards.

Geez! Overkill much?

Okay, so the first time had been a bit scary, but he would have thought the gangs of Hong Kong had caught on to the whole thing by now.

Apparently not.

Well, if Hannibal wanted him shadowed, so be it. He could live with that. He would probably live a lot longer with that, a dark part of his brain reminded him.

 

* * *

 

He traced the ragged, uneven scars. There was no pain from the touch, just Hermann’s unease when someone, even Newton, brushed a caress over them. It was like a deep-seated disgust, mixed with an old anger at what had happened to him, with a trickle of unease that came from the disfigurement, and some shame.

Newton saw nothing to be ashamed of. The injury had been bad, crippling, and there had been talk about losing the leg, or at least most of his mobility. Hermann had fought that prognosis with everything he had had, and he could move without a wheelchair, wasn’t bed-ridden, and he was a pro with the cane. If he forgot about how seriously wrong his leg took too much running, he was even jump-running down a corridor.

The man could be fast. Very, very fast.

Newton hadn’t known him before the accident, but he had gotten to know him in the Drift. He had seen the Hermann of before and the Hermann now. There had been no difference.

Only the limp and the cane.

And the occasional anger at himself, at his limitations.

Following a white line, ancient and still too fresh in one, Newton splayed his hand over the marks.

Hermann’s fingers shakily carded through his hair. The unease was still there. He was more tense than Newton wanted him to be, expecting… something. Not pain, just… something.

“I don’t mind them,” he said softly, looking into the brown eyes.

“I do.”

“Nothing you can do about them.”

“I know. Logically I know. Intellectually, too. But otherwise…”

Memories flitted through his mind, of hospitals, rehab, the prognosis, the updated prognosis, the talks with psychologists and surgeons and therapists.

Newton leaned up, kissing him, putting all he felt and wanted into that kiss, the link between them open and transmitting easily.

Hermann trembled a little, not from fear, just too many repressed emotions.

 

_Crippled._

_No._

_Yes._

_Herm…_

 

Hermann drew him in, closer, skin against skin, and Newton tried not to let his weight rest on the old injury.

“Newt… It’s okay.”

“Not for long.”

There was a flare of anger.

Newton rested his forehead against Hermann’s, eyes closed, feeling the wave of emotions, the wave of warmth and longing and needing to heal this, a fracture in his partner’s soul that had been there for so long.

He poured his acceptance and love into the contact, wanted Hermann to understand.

“You are not crippled, Hermann,” he finally said as he opened his eyes. “Handicapped a little. Yes, sure. But not a cripple. I love you and I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable or hurt you.”

“Then listen to this,” Hermann replied, the hum rising. “I’m okay. I can take the weight. I won’t be able to carry you around, but the pain is nerve damage and strained muscles, not you.”

That’s why he had therapy. That’s why he needed to move his muscles, not stand or sit on them all day. That’s why Newton kept gently pushing him when he didn’t want to leave the lab. It had been an ongoing project of his own: get Hermann to therapy, no matter what, no matter where they were.

Newton slid a leg between Hermann’s, easily fitting his body to rest half on his partner’s, half on the mattress, and he resumed his caress of the scars.

 

_Not disfiguring._

_Ugly._

_Eye of the beholder. Like my tattoos._

 

Hermann’s fingers traced those tattoos and a smile crossed his thin lips. It was a feather-light touch, almost playful, and Newton closed his eyes, simply enjoying it.

Symbiosis, Hermann had called it. And it was. They needed each other, each in his own way. Newton’s need was of a more physical nature, sure, but Hermann, for all his portrayal of the stoic rock in the stormy sea, needed him, too.

“Of course I do,” Gottlieb whispered, gently tugging at his hair. “I always did.”

Newton blinked up at him.

“I did my best work with you around, Newt.”

Gawd, was it possible to adore the man even more? Love him even more?

“I need a recorder in bed,” Newton mumbled, grinning. “You confess the oddest, most flattering things.”

Another tug and he chuckled. His hand rested firm and warm on the mangled hip. Almost proprietary. Yeah, maybe that was what he felt. This man was his.

There was an echo from Hermann and he melted into that.

They needed this. Maybe not always like this as in: bed, sex, touch, kiss. It had started out differently. It had been a strange friendship, baffling outsiders. It had been a weird way of expressing what they felt. It had been… their way. And it had all led to this. Well, maybe not to Drifting with a Kaiju, but becoming compatible.

Then again, they had always been compatible. In their lab, in their work, in their personalities, as much as they had clashed.

Hermann hummed his agreement.

Newton let the caress lull him into a doze.

 

* * *

 

Waking up was a slow and leisurely process. Feeling wrapped in a warm blanket that seemed to enclose his mind as well, Newton stretched lazily, keeping his eyes closed. There was a warm sensation running through his body, making him sigh in contentment and something else as it centered itself in his groin area, becoming more defined with the second.

Fingers brushed over his belly, teasingly dancing over the dust of hair before they dipped deeper, slipped beneath the waistband of the boxers he had been sleeping in. Newton moaned softly when those knowing fingers closed around him, played him slowly, but far from hesitant. His hips bucked into the touch involuntarily and his mind chose this moment to give waking up entirely a try. But the warmth was back like a blanket and Newt whimpered when the action in his nether regions became more urgent.

There were lips on his and he heard someone whimper and then sob and it surely couldn’t be him, could it? But then Hermann stroked and squeezed somehow and he jerked and…

…cried out incoherently both mentally and verbally as he exploded and melted at the same time.

 

 

“Fuck,” Newton breathed. “Dude!”

Hermann raised his eyebrows. Damn, the man could do smug. He did an excellent smug!

“More than eighty-five seconds,” Newt crowed, still on a high of endorphins he hoped never to come down from.

“I believe it was.”

Hermann cleaned his hand on a t-shirt that Newton recognized as his and he voiced a protest. It got him the raised eyebrows again, but Hermann used the t-shirt to wipe him clean, too. Oh well. Laundry.

He liked playful Hermann. A lot. And from the soft waves between them, Gottlieb had enjoyed himself, too. Newton rolled over and kissed the thin lips, grinning against them when the echoes increased.

“Want to try blowing my brains out?” he suggested, eyes alight, voice dropping to a seductive murmur. Well, he hoped it was.

“All in the name and for the sake of science,” Hermann agreed.

Oh, he loved being a guinea pig.

 

tbc...


	14. Chapter 14

The two Jaegers were deployed a few more times, always coming back with mountains of data the scientists flocked toward like bees to honey. Hermann was getting a lot of readings from the closed Breach and he was busy constructing several models, running mathematical equations and generally being a pain in the butt. He was short-tempered and chased several math students around, calling them names Newton had never heard before. Well, learn something every day.

At the end of the day, Newton sauntered over and leaned his hip against the projection table. It was state-of-the-art and the latest tech. It was a beauty and Newton had used it to simulate the nervous system of Otachi, earning him an earful from Hermann.

“So, what’s new?” he asked casually.

Hermann glared at him.

“You’ve been so hard at work, haven’t seen much of you.”

“We work in the same lab.”

“Ye-eah. But you weren’t home.”

Hermann frowned a little, as if Newton was a math puzzle he was trying to solve. He reached out automatically, his presence so much closer to Newton, without physically moving. It was like someone was hugging him and it was a good feeling. A really good feeling.

“I’m fine!” Newton said immediately. “Really. It’s nothing like that. Really fine. Weaned off and all.”

“I highly doubt that. And I despise the analogy to me feeding you with anything, Dr. Geiszler.”

“Oh, but you are.” He grinned.

Hermann leaned back in his chair, brows furrowing again. “I have work to do.”

“Share?”

“You are a biologist, I’m a mathematician. Please elaborate where you can help me with my equations?”

“Well…”

“Go away,” Gottlieb said dismissively and went back to his numbers.

His warm presence stayed, taking the bite out of the words. Before their strange connection Newton had known how to take the snide remarks, the barbed wire, the snarking already. Now it was so much clearer.

 

_Love you._

_You are impossibly insufferable._

_But you like me anyway._

 

He grinned and sauntered back to his side of the lab.

 

*

 

It was two days later that they were both in a meeting with Marshall Hansen and Hermann gave a preliminary report on what he had been working on.

So the Breach was apparently the weakest spot between their dimensions. There had been speculation about whether there might be a Breach somewhere else, maybe in the Atlantic, maybe in the North Sea, maybe the Indian Ocean, or maybe on land.

“Highly unlikely options,” Hermann told them. “A dimensional breach isn’t just happening. To punch a hole through the fabric of space you need a lot of energy. And you need a weak spot. There aren’t that many.”

“So it’s still a weak spot,” Herc said gravely.

“Yes. It won’t change.”

“And they will be back.”

“Most likely. I can’t predict when, though.” Hermann looked slightly put out by that.

“Any way we can enforce the weak spot? Make it stronger?”

“I highly doubt that is in our limited range of resources and technological advancement. I can look into it, but it will probably be decades until we have any results, let alone viable options.”

“Okay. So we set up guards.”

Hermann nodded. “The only option right now, Marshall.”

 

 

It was a plan as good as any. There would be Jaegers down there, there would be early warning sensors, and if Newton had his way, there would be a lab, though that might be the biggest challenge. Working at the bottom of the ocean, in such depth, would require people of a special caliber.

He might compromise on an automatic lab for now.

If he got any funding at all.

 

*

 

That night Hermann came home, to their shared apartments, and Newton’s resolution to get the man naked was stronger than before.

Somehow, it didn’t really take much.

It was almost anticlimactic.

Huh, figure that.

Newton knew what people said about his colleague, how they speculated what he must look like under all those layers.

Stick thin, dressing in old-fashioned clothes, always with his vest in his pants, always with his shirt buttoned up to the last button.

A recluse, not a people person, skittish and then again not.

Loudly opinionated, always in a squabble with Newton, and fastidious about his work.

Obsessed. In a good way.

His eyes ran over the naked man, appreciative, hungry, wanting. Uninked skin, pale from too little exposure, and so… so…

Okay, maybe he was going to salivate now.

Hermann wasn’t thin underneath all those clothes; he was slender. In a good way. Newton had known that already. He had been in the man’s bed, in his arms, countless nights already. Had stroked his hand over naked skin underneath his pajama top, had felt the warmth, but no bones. He knew by sense of touch and now he wanted to see.

Newton couldn’t count the ribs, nor did the man look like he rarely ate. That he had known already, too, and it was easily confirmed. Okay, Hermann didn’t work out, sure, and that showed. But to Newton’s appreciative eyes he was attractive.

A bit pale, but attractive.

It wasn’t like Newton was going to the gym either. Who was he to judge?

God, he was so in love.

He ran an explorative caress over the hairless chest, smiling at the expression on Hermann’s face.

“You shouldn’t put so many clothes over that body of yours,” Newton murmured and kissed the smooth chest, unable to stop himself.

“Work ethics.”

He snorted a little laugh. “I didn’t say you should come to work naked. Or without a shirt. Though it might boost morale… It would boost something with me. If you would do it, I couldn’t be held accountable for my actions. It might scar the minions.”

Hermann glared. Newton smiled brightly, unrepentant, then he continued his adoration and chest kissing.

“I meant here,” he murmured against the smooth skin. “No clothes here. At home. In bed.”

“I haven’t had a reason to,” was the slightly breathless reply.

Fingers carded into his hair, scratching against his skull. It was nice. Distractingly nice. Newton almost purred.

“And you have now?” he asked, looking up. He was delighted by the smile on Hermann’s lips.

“I...”

“We’re not at work when we’re in here.”

“You have a valid point.”

Newton rested a flat palm on the enticingly smooth skin. “I always have.”

“I beg to differ,” Hermann countered, temper flaring.

Newton had to kiss him. He had to. Right in that moment. Hermann responded, opening up, drawing Newt closer with the hand carded into his hair.

“Oh wow,” Newton laughed against the reddened lips. “Wow.”

“Overwhelmed, Dr. Geiszler?”

The sensations racing between them, what Newton felt, were intense. He hadn’t really been aware of how intense until now. It was building up, almost… yeah, overwhelming. It was good, so good, and he wanted more. If Hermann felt at least a little of this, if the connection between them worked like that…

“Newt,” his partner murmured, cupping his face, thumb brushing over his stubble.

The grounding effect was immediate, but it didn’t stop the intense emotions.

It was as if Hermann had learned how to wield his powers, Newton mused distractedly. He was good at this. Really good. Damn!

Gottlieb kissed him again, the smile against Newton’s lips telltale. He felt it. And he liked it.

Newt let his fingers wander over the chest, over the flat stomach. His fingers were playing along the waistband of the pajama pants, but his eyes were on Hermann’s face.

“Okay?” he asked softly.

It got him a hesitant nod.

Newton pushed the waistband down, over his partner’s hips.

He had seen the scars.

He knew what had happened.

He knew the pain and the devastation and the hopelessness.

Gentle fingers ran over the torn and badly mended skin, exploring. The scars stretched across the thigh, white and jagged. There was nerve damage. There was muscle damage. There was pain sometimes, especially when he overdid it, strained the leg, banged it against something.

Newton knew all that.

Hermann was tense, his face pinched, but not in pain. Newton looked up the pale form, his own colored skin contrasting wildly. He splayed his fingers over the web of scars, trying to think soothing thoughts.

Nothing could change what he felt for this man, what he knew, what he had seen and been through.

Newton leaned over him, kissing the thinned lips, so bloodless and self-deprecating.

Doesn’t matter, he thought. Nothing matters. Only this man, this closeness they had, the shared space in their head.

Hermann’s fingers trailed feather-light over the intricate ink lines that were on his hip, swirling up his waist. Blue and green, red and yellow and orange, the black lines sending them into sharp relief.

Newton brushed his palm over Hermann’s hard dick, felt it jump under the light pressure, so he did it again, and again. His fingers finally curled around it, pumping leisurely. Hermann made a soft, needy noise.

“I want to… us… together…” Newt murmured into the open-mouthed kisses.

Hermann’s breath stuttered. “I…”

Not his first time. Newton knew it. It was just a very long time since it had happened, since Gottlieb had allowed himself to feel anything other than the love he had for his numbers.

Hermann nodded.

Newton smiled widely, still palming the hard dick.

“Hold that thought,” he murmured and leaned over to rummage around his pants, which were conveniently located on the floor. Hermann usually bitched about it in the morning.

Lube. There was lube.

Hermann hissed softly through his teeth when the slickness touched his dick and Newton pumped it slowly.

“Newt…”

“Long time, I know. Not such a hair trigger like me, though.” He flashed another smile, slicking up his own, straining erection.

Keeping a hand on the good hip, he moved his own slowly, almost painfully slowly, and Hermann made a sound that had Newt groan as they slid against each other. So surprised and full of wonder, so desperate in trying to still maintain control.

Emotions bounced between them like rubber balls in a closed room. He felt everything, wanted everything, was keenly aware of what Hermann was experiencing, feeling…

Part of him was insanely proud that he hadn’t come already, just looking at this wonderful man in bed with him, touching his naked skin, _seeing_ his naked skin, his dick… everything!

Another was too busy fighting for control, to keep this, to last, to draw it out.

It was an uphill battle and he almost keened with the need to let go.

The hum between them was no longer quiet or in the background. It was an overpowering rush, something that took them both and dragged them along like on a whitewater raft ride. Neither was in control any longer.

Newton knew he was far from in control on his best day, but now he had swept Hermann with him.

 

_Let go._

_…_

_I got you._

 

It hit Hermann first and it was like a spark that set off the second explosion. Newton felt it along the lines that connected them, felt it travel through his body and he moaned, feeling the slick evidence between their bodies, his hips jerking once, twice, then he buried his head against the pale neck.

The aftershock was like nothing he had ever felt. It was the same feedback loop, just… so much more intense. So much more… both of them. It was a Drift, but there was something there like a neural link, something so intimate and personal and more than mere sex.

It was everything.

Them.

Just them.

Hermann’s fingers were on his shoulder, moving into his hair, trembling, almost careful.

Echoes bounced between them, strong and not memories of a Drift long since passed. It was real time; right now. It felt amazing.

“Newt.”

He was breathing so hard, Newton felt like he had just climbed the highest mountain without oxygen support.

“Newt.”

Gawd, he was smothering Hermann. He tried to roll off, but strong arms, stronger than anyone might think, held him. Soft lips brushed over his temple. Newton raised his head, carefully taking at least some weight off the bad hip.

“You okay?” he managed, stumbling over the words. His brain was mush.

The fingers in his hair curled, tugging lightly. “I am very much okay.”

No pain. Newton felt no pain between them. He knew how that came across, had been aware of it sometimes, when Hermann strained himself, but now there was just… pleasure. A high like nothing else.

“Good.”

“Was this your way of asking if it was good for me, too?” Hermann asked, sounding more teasing than put off.

Newton snorted. “Maybe?”

He was pulled into a kiss that was incredibly soft and yes, loving. “You did good.”

He quirked a smile. “Pat on the head; good boy?”

“You lasted very long, Newt. You are taking control of this.”

“Hm, I love your sweet nothings after mind-blowing sex.”

Hermann chuckled, honest to god chuckled!

“I love you, too, Newt.”

Newton froze, then pushed himself up and green eyes, wide in shock, stared into calm, brown ones.

“W-what did you say?”

“You heard me the first time.”

“Really?”

“Have I ever given you reason to doubt my words? Lied to you?”

He had to kiss him then. Hard. Deep. With everything he felt and had ever felt. The connection between them hummed, almost sparked, but it definitely burned with what Newton felt. All of it. Without pretense, shields, masks.

Hermann answered the passionate kiss, not holding back, strong fingers in his hair and one arm around the colored back.

He had known, always known, but it was the first time… the first time Hermann had said it in those words; aloud.

tbc...


	15. Chapter 15

“Initiating launch operations.”

Newton felt something inside of him skitter around like a nervous little animal, a mouse or a rat or a rabbit or…

Oh. Rabbit. Don’t chase the rabbit. He.

He nearly hit his head against the wall behind him to get his brain to settle down. His jittery nerves combined with the neural overload currently going on in his very own headspace had him on edge.

_Get a grip, Geiszler!_ he told himself forcefully. _You’re a professional! You are a scientist embarking on a grand adventure, it’s scary as hell, but you’re a professional!_

Calmness spread through him, netting his wayward emotions, settling around him like a blanket.

Hermann.

Not physically here, but the connection between them stood.

Like fine tendrils of warmth, the presence seeped into him and Newton drew a slow, calming breath as his nerves were soothed.

Ever since it had become clear just when Newton would get a chance to join Skyfall on the bottom of the ocean, near the former Breach, Hermann had been in a grumpy mood.

More grumpy than usual.

A lot more grumpy than usual.

Newton might just have called him Mr. Grumpyface this morning, ducking out the door before he might get a book thrown after him.

Hermann had been setting a new record in grumpiness, up till the moment most of the minions had given him such a wide berth, they had by-passed the lab completely.

There had been bickering and snarling and snapping and biting Newt’s head off more than once within an hour. New record. Newton hadn’t been deterred, though. This was what he wanted to do and no amount of bitching from his colleague would get him to change his mind.

“I’ll bring you something. Maybe a t-shirt,” he had teased just before he had been ushered into the Drivesuit Room.

Hermann’s glare rivaled Kaiju Blue in acidity. He had been there for the whole procedure, something Newton wouldn’t have bet on five minutes earlier.

But there he was.

It had been an immense reassurance and from the worried brown eyes, he realized it had been for Hermann’s sanity as well. Well, maybe not sanity, but he was worried.

 

_I’ll be safe._

_You don’t know that._

_Love you, too._

 

As for the Drivesuits, ye-eah. Not his latest fashion statement, really. The undergarment hadn’t been flattering and the armor looked like he was going to ride off into a medieval duel. But they weren’t optional. Actually, mandatory wasn’t even a word for how serious the Marshall had been about Newton wearing one of them. He might not interface with the Jaeger exoskeleton, but he was part of the crew now and the suit was mandatory.

So here he was, in a black and blue suit, just like James and Q wore them, and he had a helmet on. Which, back to banging his head against the wall, would protect him from such not very much recommended maneuvers.

Brain like a squirrel on speed.

Shit.

The soothing coolness tugged gently at the feverish chaos and it dissolved.

_Thanks, Herm. Owe you one. More than a t-shirt._

Newton smiled when he caught warm waves, more like a hug, and very much intentional. They were getting good at this and intimacy had apparently only boosted the connection.

When he looked up he caught the wintery eyes of Skyfall’s pilot and Bond smiled knowingly, giving him a nod. Yeah, well, he could probably tell what was going on in that damaged brain of his, Newton mused. James and Q shared something similar, but it wasn’t the same.

The technicians were swarming around the two pilots, the spinal clamps fitting smoothly into place with soft clicks. They attached the cables to the feedback cradle, the full-spectrum neural transference plate on the back of the suits, each move calm and practiced a hundred times over. Bond put on his helmet, the Relay Gel sinking into the suit, ready to transmit the impulses between both men.

Newton’s place was not within the interface. He really didn’t want to initiate a threeway Drift anyway. He wasn’t needed and he wouldn’t pilot Skyfall for even a second.

He was the passenger, the guest.

It had taken some remodeling in the Conn-Pod to get a place for a passenger set up. Newton stood in a contraption not unlike the guidance control. A seat would have been unable to absorb the shock of the Drop, as well as possible vibrations throughout the ride to the ocean floor. So he was in a Drivesuit, hooked into the system to access the HUD on his own screen, use the Jaeger’s full range of sensors, but he wasn’t cleared for weapons.

Not that he couldn’t hack into those controls…

Bond currently checked Skyfall’s status. She was powering up nicely. The digital HUD went online, the virtual environment bathing everything in a soft blue. The physical controls locked into place.

“Pons is ready,” Tendo could be heard. “Prepare for neural handshake.”

Bond looked at his co-pilot. Q flashed him a quick smile.

“Neural Handshake in fifteen seconds.”

Newton wished he had taken up meditation with Mako or Raleigh. Or yoga. He was a nervous wreck!

“Two pilots engaged in neural bridge,” the Jaeger A.I. announced.

He was startled out of his freak-out over what was to happen and blinked.

“Synchronized,” the A.I. announced. “Neural handshake complete. Bridge holding steady.”

“What do you say, Newt?” James called, smiling at him. “Shall we take a dive?”

“Engage drop,” the Marshall confirmed.

“Engaging drop,” Tendo replied matter-of-factly. “Have fun, Newt. James, Q,” he added, sounding amused.

“Release for drop,” Bond responded automatically as Q’s fingers flew over the controls they barely ever needed the moment they were connected to Skyfall.

The hangar doors slid open and the deployment began.

 

* * *

 

Deep, dark ocean. Water. Miles and miles and miles of water above him.

Standing over the Breach.

Where the Kaijus came from.

“Newton?”

No memory flashes. Not really. Just a strange kind of pressure, like something tried to make itself known.

“Newton!”

“Huh?”

“Breathe.”

Newton glared at Skyfall’s co-pilot, but Q just smiled widely. Yes, yes, he was breathing. Just fine. Wonderful. And he was at the bottom of the ocean! He was standing near the Breach, looking at Kaiju remains, looking at ground torn apart by a nuclear blast, looking at… a graveyard.

 

_Death. Death. Dying. One by one. Alone in the end. Final death. One more death. Alone._

 

He inhaled sharply and pushed the foggy sensations away.

Not now. Not right now!

“Breathing,” he said, waving a hand. “Just a bit… much.”

“Flashes?” Q asked, frowning a little.

“Yes. No. Kinda. It’s over. It’s okay.”

It was mind-numbing. Heavily mind-numbing. And exciting. And overwhelming. And there was nothing for him to do but stare at the images on the HUD, his mind trying to wrap around what had happened here.

Where Stacker Pentecost had lost his life.

Where Raleigh and Mako had done something incredible, piloting Gipsy Danger into the Breach and detonating her manually in another dimension.

Where everything had started.

Where everything had ended.

“Newt?”

He looked at Q, who was watching him with knowing, alert eyes.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, let’s get closer then,” Bond decided.

Skyfall’s powerful headlights pierced the murky darkness, dancing over skeletal remains, half buried underneath the rock.

“Wow,” he murmured.

Q smiled grimly. “Yes.”

“Radiation levels still holding,” Bond said. “We’re doing fine.”

Newton touched a few keys from the HUD and Skyfall’s systems gave him what he had requested. A full scan of the area, detailing the location of Kaiju biologicals. There was a lot down here, including weirdly thick clots of Kaiju Blue. It seemed to just float there, like a permanent cloud in the middle of the ocean. Huh. Interesting.

Something moved, then more lights illuminated the area. One of the blood clots lit up like a neon sign and it was almost surreal. And beautiful.

“Quantum Solace,” Bond identified the Jaeger joining them. “Hey, Felix.”

“Bond, you old dog,” a jovial, clearly American, voice answered. “First time out today. Eve and I are taking the lady for a spin.”

“Looking good.”

Quantum was shorter than Skyfall, modeled after Tacit Ronin, kept in black and silver, with a golden hue along the black forearms and black lower legs that reflected the light underwater.

“So’s Skyfall. I hear you have a passenger riding along.”

“Dr. Newton Geiszler,” James introduced him. “Meet Felix Leiter and Eve Moneypenny. Vancouver Shatterdome.”

“Uh, a pleasure, I’m sure,” Newton said dutifully.

“Heard a lot about you, Doc. You’re a hero and a whacko.”

Q stifled a laugh. “Aren’t we all?”

“Q, my boy, you sure are, piloting a Jaeger with this relic.”

“Boys,” Eve could be heard, a sigh in her voice. “Work before pleasure, please.”

Vancouver was the only other Shatterdome currently operational that had a science division, too. Sydney had reopened last month, but it was military use only for now. They had one operational Jaeger, Hunter Strait, and one more going into operation soon that had been dubbed Roo Epsilon.

James looked at Newton, raising his brows behind the face shield. “Okay, Newt. Business, that’s why we’re here. Where do you want to go?”

 

_The ocean. Dark and deep. A different dimension. Not their home. Born to fight, to kill, muscle and tissue slapped together to create better weapons. Alone in the dark, rising to the surface to kill._

_Kill the inhabitants of this world to be free of the masters._

 

He pushed the images away. He couldn’t let it all overwhelm him.

“Right,” Newton murmured.

He looked at his HUD, so many options open to him. He finally kicked his wayward, overexcited brain into gear.

_Scientist. You’re a scientist. Think and work like one!_

Oh, his inner voice sounded like Hermann. Scary. And kind of cool.

He clicked through his list in seconds, then pushed it onto the main HUD display. Q nodded and James acknowledged.

“Alright, let’s go,” Bond said and the two pilots started to move Skyfall forward according to Newton’s map.

 

*

 

“Have you ever tried guiding the Kaiju memory flashes?”

Newton looked at Q, puzzled. Skyfall was currently stationary, about a mile from the Breach, taking readings from the partial skeleton that Newton had identified as Raiju. Gipsy had bisected the category-4 from head to tail in a rather clean, efficient strike and the two halves had ended up very far apart. This one, while missing all its inner organs, looked rather untouched by whatever ate Kaiju down here. The pressure kept the muscle tissue and skin in place.

“I… no, not really. They just… come.”

Q, like James, was locked into place in the feedback cradle, but Newton could walk around. It wasn’t advised because Skyfall might have to move suddenly, but so far it had been uneventful. The ground they stood on was solid. Quantum had moved to her own position on the other side of the Breach, currently busy with taking readings there.

“Violent ones,” Q stated.

“Yeah. It’s not like Kaijus live a peaceful life. They get bio-engineered, muscle and bone and skin and all, and it’s… painful. Agonizing, really.”

“They are conscious?” Bond asked, intrigued.

“Yes and no. They aren’t born. They are clones.”

Both pilots nodded, knowing those facts.

“And there is a stage in their development where the brain becomes… active. It becomes part of the hive.” Newton looked at the images from the outside, displayed on the HUD’s screens. “And that’s where the memories start. Until their own pain adds to the hive memory. The precursors treat them as tools, weapons, objects… but they are aware of what they are, what is expected of them, and the intelligence grows with each new clone.”

Bond grunted. Q looked intrigued.

“So they become part of the hive through pain and then leave the hive in pain. Not much in-between,” Newton concluded. “There was a time when I wondered if we couldn’t somehow talk to them, but that’s another bio-engineered part. They are really just programmed weapons, unable to not fight the Jaegers, no destroy our cities and the Walls.”

“Conditioned,” James remarked.

“Conditioning can be broken. It’s a psychological process,” Newton objected. “The Kaiju hive mind knows nothing but the absolute loyalty to their masters. They don’t think for themselves. They use what has always been there and can’t not obey. Disobedience is… alien to them.”

“Kill or be killed. No fear,” Q translated.

“No mercy,” Bond added grimly.

Newton nodded. And that was what flashed through him as he looked at the Breach, a scarred piece of ocean floor that was the weak spot between two dimensions.

The PPDC had already signed off on a project to install an early warning system in a wide perimeter around the area. It would take time and a lot of work, but the first sensors would be active in a few months. All available Jaegers would be used to drive the sensors into the ground. Hermann had already started on calculations to find the precise location for each sensor, the depth it would have to be in, and how to anchor it. Then all would have to be aligned and tested.

“How are you doing?” Q asked. “With the flashes.”

“Fine. It’s… not as bad as I had initially feared.”

The training had paid off. He was really getting good at this, even if it was a slow process. If he concentrated, he could feel Hermann with him, in the background, solid and grounding, but not overwhelming or actively pushing control. It was a nice feeling. Calming. Very, very calming.

Outside, Quantum was moving closer and Felix could be heard over the comm. “We’re all done for today, boys.”

“See you around,” Bond answered.

“You coming back to Vancouver any time soon?” Leiter wanted to know.

“No plans yet.”

“Aw, M’s getting soft without you keeping him on his toes.”

They could hear Moneypenny laughing.

“Highly doubtful,” Q commented.

“Give the Marshall my best,” James added with a smile.

“We will,” Eve promised.

Then Quantum Solace started moving toward home; Vancouver.

“No plans, huh?” Newton echoed.

“None,” Bond agreed. “We’re needed here and Herc hasn’t kicked us out yet.”

Since Bond was also Herc’s second, the Marshall would do no such thing any time soon. Newton liked the British team and he would really like to keep the two men close because they were more or less reference material for him when it came to this… connection. Bond. Whatever.

And Q was a really good listener.

Yeah, if they stayed it would be great. Knowing Herc, he would do everything to keep his second-in-command in Hong Kong.

 

tbc...


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the final chapter. Can I just repeat that this was supposed to be a nice little fic, not such an epic monster? And that I didn't want another brain fart lodged in my head ONE DAY before flying off to Whitehorse for my vacation? Fat chance, I know. I'm an obsessive writer. Is there OWA somewhere? Obsessive Writers Anonymous?
> 
> Yeah, well, I have stupid little scenes that I just HAVE to write right now and I'm already writing a third story and yes, the laptop is travelling with me. 
> 
> *hangs head*
> 
> Hopeless. I'm so, so hopeless!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed yourselves as much as I enjoyed writing those two!

Twelve hours.

They had been down there twelve hours.

Newton had lost track of time, completely absorbed in his work. Skyfall had collected a few interesting bones and they were coming back with so many readings and samples, Newton wondered if they had a maximum loading capacity.

James and Q maneuvered the Jaeger with absolute assuredness toward the loading docks where they deposited the physical samples for decontamination. The radioactivity levels were surprisingly low. That had been the first discovery when the Jaegers had gone down to the sealed Breach. The Kaiju bones and decaying tissue would always be cleaned first. Newton had devised a method for that and it was usually a quick and safe procedure.

Skyfall then moved to her own bay and the moment she was securely back, the Conn-Pod was raised back into position for the crew to disembark. Technicians swarmed again and Newton let them help him out of the Drivesuit’s outer layer.

For some reason he felt a bit shaky. Not a sugar low or dehydrated, just shaky. Like too much of everything, combined with exhaustion and adrenaline.

“Did you enjoy your ride?” Q asked, already stripping out of the undergarment.

It was an easy, practiced move. Newton was still fumbling and he felt clumsy in comparison.

“That was…amazing. And that’s an understatement!” Newton shot him a grin, trying to disentangle himself from the clingy fabric. It was like getting out of a wetsuit! And Newton had never before in his life taken diving lessons.

James took pity and helped him.

The fact that the man was completely naked didn’t even register with Newton until pants came into the equation. Pilots had no shame. Probably a necessary requirement, he mused.

Then Bond slipped his t-shirt over his head. He looked as relaxed as if he had just gotten out of bed. Twelve hours Drifting and neither pilot appeared to be overly stressed. From the way he and Q were moving, reacting to each other without eye-contact or words, the Ghost-Drifts were in full force.

Newton was almost bouncing when he left the Drivesuit Room, tired but elated, the tremors gone. His smile grew exponentially when he discovered Hermann Gottlieb just outside. Dressed in his habitual suit, though without the tugged-in vest this time, and the shirt wasn’t buttoned to the top. Actually, the topmost three buttons were open.

Whoa! It was like the man had started a strip-tease, Newton’s brain shot off at random.

“Aw, Herm, came to pick me up?” he called.

It got him a frown, but the soft waves between them, the hug around his mind, told Newton more than anything else how glad his partner was to see him in one piece. If Hermann were a more open man, he would probably have flung his arms around Newton and hugged the living daylights out of him. There might even have been a kiss.

But he wasn’t.

So no kiss.

And they had the weird psychic bond Newton treasured.

“Okay, Dr. Gottlieb, he’s all yours again,” James announced and clapped Newton on the shoulder. “See you, Newt. Get some food and sleep before your system crashes.”

“Ranger Bond,” Hermann said stiffly. “Ranger Whitmarsh.”

Newton rolled his eyes at the formality.

And then they were alone. All the techs had disappeared and Skyfall’s pilots had beaten a retreat.

Newton took the chance and leaned in, giving Hermann a gentle kiss. “I’m okay, Herm. Really. Relax,” he murmured.

Hermann looked flustered, eyes darting around as if he was afraid to be outed. Please, come on! Everyone knew about them and no one gave a flying shit who slept with whom. And if anyone didn’t know that there was something going on between the two lead scientists, they had to be blind, deaf and dumb. Or they hadn’t listened to the gossip girls. Or a Jaeger had fallen on them.

“Forgot your t-shirt,” Newton said, smiling softly. “But I brought you back a shitload of data.”

It got him a snort and a tiny smile. “Food,” Hermann decided.

Newton’s stomach rumbled and he rolled his eyes. Damn mind-reader. But food sounded really, really good.

 

*

 

“How was your ride, doc?”

Newton beamed at Chuck, still alive with so many emotions, with too much adrenaline that had yet to abate, and he felt his brain bounce around his head. Hansen was just finishing the Mystery Meal of the Day. Meatloaf or something with tofu, Chuck had mumbled around a mouthful. With something green that might be vegetables. Or algae. Or maybe mashed potatoes gone wrong.

“It was incredible!” Newton gushed. “Almost the same rush as when I dissected my first Kaiju! Or finally decoded their DNA sequence!”

Chuck snorted, eyes dancing with amusement. “You get your kicks in a weird way.” He shook his head and shoveled some green stuff into his mouth. He didn’t even grimace.

“Hey, not all can be jockeys.”

“And not everyone Drifts with a Kaiju. Twice.” Chuck gave him a pointed look, but there was a lot of humor there. It was a good look on him and Newton knew who and what had put it there. Raleigh was good for Chuck; really good.. “You’re just as bad an adrenaline junkie as we are. Given the chance you would want to drive a Jaeger, right?”

“Uh, no. Not really. I’m more of science nerd, not a jock,” Newton told him, stabbing his fork at him. There were a few spaghetti wrapped around it.

“You have no idea whatcha missin’.”

“Drifted twice,” he reminded the younger man. “Got it out of my system.”

Chuck finished his soda, crushing the can in his hand.

“Oh, please,” Hermann muttered, still busy with his veggie lasagna.

Newton ignored him. So did Chuck.

“Epic’s gonna dive tomorrow. We don’t have a child seat, but we could put you in the trunk,” Hansen teased.

Newton shot him an evil look and flicked the spaghetti at him.

“No food fights, boys,” Raleigh chastised and sprawled gracefully next to his co-pilot and… whatever else they were together.

‘Boyfriends’ sounded so teen magazine. ‘Partners’ was more like it. Probably ‘mates’, if Chuck talked about them, but maybe that was too general. Whatever it was, it had opened up something in Chuck, had relaxed him, had taken that angry edge and smoothed it. There was still a bite, and hell, it was a really sharp bite, but the tone had changed. The man had thawed, Newton mused. In a very good way. Just like Raleigh no longer had that sharp edge of pain, of guilt, of nightmares he had to fight alone.

Yeah, they were good for each other.

Newton caught Hermann’s look and felt the hum between them. He smiled briefly.

“Cake? They have cake?” Chuck exclaimed, looking at the rather delicious looking chocolate cake on Raleigh’s plate.

“As evidenced.”

“And you didn’t get me one?” Chuck slapped Becket’s arm with his flat palm.

“No.”

“Why?”

Raleigh looked honestly puzzled. “Why why?”

“Romance is dead,” Newton sighed and grinned cheerfully at the two men.

“Apparently,” Chuck grumbled, glaring at his co-pilot.

Raleigh ate a piece of the cake, licking his lips. Chuck stared at him, drawn between fury and something Newton recognized as something a lot more personal. He glanced at his companion. Hermann’s brows were raised and Newton made a little gesture that could mean just about anything, but they didn’t have a connection for nothing. Apparently the intention was clear enough as Hermann rose, picked up his tray, and limped over to the tray station. Newton shot the two pilots a quick smile, then he followed.

From the looks of it, Chuck was too busy trying to steal chocolate cake off of Raleigh.

“Want cake?” he asked Hermann as they cleared their trays.

“No.”

“But I want cake.”

Gottlieb raised his brows in a clear ‘then get some’ expression.

“I’d even share with you.”

“You just ate enough to feed an army.”

“Hence the offer to share. Twelve hours in a Conn-Pod with just some liquid food stuff makes you hungry,” Newton said reasonably. “It’s worse than flying intercontinental! At least they give you an inboard meal. Jaegers? Not so much.”

They were already out of the mess hall and heading for their quarters. Newton shot a longing look over his shoulder, then sighed.

“It’s probably awful anyway.”

Hermann rolled his eyes.

“One day, your eyes will get stuck that way.”

He didn’t get a comeback. Just a frown. Which was just as good. They walked down the hallway, close together, until they were in their connected apartments.

Newton finally crashed when the food settled in his stomach and he was back in their quarters. A yawn escaped him and he scrubbed a hand over his face.

A towel was thrown at him and landed on his head. “Take a shower,” Hermann ordered.

“Is that your way of saying I stink?”

It got him a pointed look.

Newton smiled brightly and sauntered over to the bathroom. Twelve hours in a Drivesuit really did leave a body odor. It spoke volumes that Chuck hadn’t remarked on it. Pilots seemed to blend that one out.

Freshly showered, hair damp, lethargy settling in, Newton didn’t even have to think where he went.

Hermann’s place.

Hermann’s bed.

Slender arms around him as he snuggled in close, feeling the grounding effect of touch immediately. They had come a long way, he knew. He could be without Hermann for days now. Completely without him. He could easily spend half a day on the ocean floor in a Jaeger and not get any serious Kaiju memory flashes or become a nervous wreck. He had felt Hermann’s presence with him down there as clearly as if the man had been right beside him.

Wow.

Hermann carded his fingers into the damp strands, tugging lightly. “Go to sleep, Newt.”

“Hnf.”

And he did.

 

* * *

 

Newton woke to the wonderful sensation of warmth and a feeling of security. He turned to the source of the warmth, a hard, very much male body, and his arms curled automatically around a slender waist. His nose buried against the warm flannel-covered chest and he sighed softly. Strong hands caressed him, running soothingly over his shoulders, rousing him out of his sleepiness.

He loved waking up with Hermann. He loved the way the other man felt. He knew every inch of that smooth chest hidden underneath the pajama top and he slid questing fingers underneath.

"Newt," came a murmur, chastising, annoyed, amused.

He blinked his eyes open, looking up, and met the mild frown with a sleepy smile.

"Good morning, Hermann," he murmured.

“I need a shower,” Gottlieb declared.

“Hn.”

“And we have a meeting with the Marshall this morning.”

“Hn.”

“And before that we have to go down to the lab.”

Newton grumbled something.

“Newton.”

“You take all the fun out of morning cuddles.”

Hermann sighed. “Dr. Geiszler.”

Newton groaned as if in pain. “Pulling out the big guns. Okay, okay, I’m up. You’re up. And I’m not making any jokes about what’s up, too. See?”

Hermann’s expression reflected exasperation.

“Yes, yes, I know. Meeting. Shower first.” He grinned impishly. “Shower sex?”

“No.”

“You really are no fun.”

Hermann gave him a little push and Newton rolled out of bed, yawning loudly, nearly dislocating his jaw. He enjoyed the view as Hermann limped off into the bathroom, grinning to himself. Last night had been… exceptional. Not their first time, not their second, but it had been a first time for Newton because he had finally been able to exude enough control over his treacherous brain to make him last.

They still had a long way to go because Newton would really like to take their relationship into deeper waters, but Hermann’s mouth on his dick had been heaven.

And damn, he was getting hard just thinking about it.

Luckily they had two apartments, which meant two bathrooms, and it meant he could take care of his reaction before Hermann would start nagging again.

Or bitch.

Or complain.

Or tell him that he needed to work on his control.

Walking through the connecting door, he headed for his bathroom, smiling brightly. If he was lucky, Hermann would get a little of what he planned in the bathroom. And glare at him until they reached the meeting room.

Yep, fun!

 

 

And if they walked into the lab, bickering, snapping at each other, Hermann flinging insults at his colleague, it was nothing but a normal way to start the day. The minions were used to it, exchanging only brief looks, some of them almost smiling fondly. Those who hadn’t learned to cope had long since transferred to another Shatterdome. Those who had stayed knew how to take the bickering.

Newton’s eyes grew wide when he discovered the enormously large piece of a triple layer chocolate cake under a protective plastic cover on his desk.

He shot Hermann a look of awe.

Gottlieb just lifted a corner of his mouth, the link alive with soft emotions.

Fuck, if they weren’t in the middle of the lab and would probably scar the minions for life, Newton would do things to Hermann…. things! He had the best partner ever!

 

*

 

Within the private environment of their connected apartments, the tone was slightly different. There was the bickering, sure. It was part of their relationship. It had always defined their relationship.

But there was also intimacy.

Not simply sex, but touch that Newton still wanted and needed. There were gentle caresses that led to nothing but a little kiss or a sleepy reply in the morning.

Hermann’s bed had become their bed. Newton’s was his to crash on when he was watching TV, working with his laptop, or when Hermann wasn’t there. It had become something of a daybed, cluttered with his mismatched blanket, cushions and two afghans of a million colors.

There was also a stuffed Kaiju.

Hermann had taken one look at it and had frowned. “That thing stays here,” had been his order, voice flat. “It won’t come to bed with us.”

“Aww, Herm…”

But he kept it here. It had been a find on a market in Hong Kong, handmade, and rather cute. It looked nothing like any of the Kaijus that had risen through the Breach, but he had bought it anyway.

Now it was on his bed.

So much had changed and still, really, as cliché as it sounded, so much had remained the same. They were closer than any two people could be, their connection strong and unwavering. What was already between them, the respect, the affection, the acceptance, hadn’t changed. Love had been added to the equation, physical intimacy, and it was… not new.

Long fingers traced his tattoos, the blue waves, the yellow flares, the line art. Newton hummed his appreciation, the bond between them alive with sensations neither man could put into words. This was so much more than any human being could feel outside the Drift. They had their own version of a permanent, neural bridge. Not as strong as the actual Pons, but still there.

Hermann kissed his neck, his arm curling over Newton’s waist. His lips dragged over the inked likeness of Otachi’s tongue. His teeth lightly bit against the blue skin and Newton shivered.

“Love you,” he murmured.

“Love you,” Hermann echoed.


End file.
